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writerpeach · 3 years

Text

Downpour

fromis_9 Jisun x Male Reader

8595 words

Categories: smut, mommy kink, oral

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Read on AFF

Read on AO3

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Thirty-percent chance of precipitation today.

The loud squeak of windshield wipers working their hardest proved the contrary, trying to keep up with the furious rain pounding your car. Weather forecasts were always full of shit, you’d probably have a better chance winning the lottery than them correctly predicting the weather.

Another crack of lightning lit up the obscured road, being trailed by a deafening roar of thunder that made your heart race. You’d never seen the skies so dark, so gloomy, so angry as if Mother Nature was enacting revenge on some poor soul.

Guided only by taillights it became harder to see much of anything, keeping your distance in between impatient cars. The right choice was made as cars sped by, splashing your windows and ruining visibility further as if they had forgotten they were on oil-slicked streets and not the Daytona 500.

You still had a good thirty minutes left to your place, normally no less than a five-minute drive in usual circumstances as the harsh storm showed no signs of letting up.

More lightning struck in the distance as the rain continued punishing the highway, thunder roaring enough to vibrate the windows, demanding its presence be known

“Thirty percent my ass,” you mumbled to yourself, cursing the idea of men and women in suits fabricating lies and getting paid to do so. You just hoped it didn’t hail, you would be home soon safe and sound with a cup of hot tea in your hands snuggled under the blankets.

The thunder grew louder, and you felt you were tempting fate at this point by continuing on, but consequences be damned, you felt no need to pull out.

Right before you were about to make your exit off the freeway, a stranded car caught your eye pulled off to the side of the road. The hood popped, blinkers flashing and you could barely make out the outline of someone waving desperately for help to anyone to no avail.

Traffic was light in this part of town, especially at night. Maybe it was too dark, maybe people didn’t care or both. You couldn’t just pass by without offering assistance, pulling behind them and shutting the engine off.

You grabbed your umbrella out of the backseat, pulled the hood of your jacket up over your head as you stepped out of the car. You were immediately bombarded by cold rain as you opened your umbrella as a shield to deflect it, heading towards the troubled car.

“Need any help?” you asked, as you approached the stranger, umbrella in hand. The owner of said car was a young woman, wearing a thin jacket that did little to protect from the rain, and you couldn’t tell if she had tears on her cheeks naturally or from the rain.

“Y-yes, thank you so much for stopping!” she said, suppressing a sniffle as you were able to clearly see her face, the rain doing its damndest to cover her beautiful features up.

“I-I don’t know anything about cars, it just stopped working. I tried to call for help but my battery died. I just filled the tank this morning, I don’t know what’s wrong with it.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know much either. Let’s get you out of the rain and I’ll see if I can call a mechanic.”

“T-thank you!” the woman graciously said, keeping your umbrella hovering over her head, trying to keep her from getting even more soaked.

“You must be freezing, I have a blanket in the backseat of my car if you don’t mind sitting in it.”

“N-not at all, thank you!” she said, as you led the way, opening up one of the back doors to allow her passage as she carefully stepped inside, taking a seat next to the window. You closed the door as the shivering woman wrapped herself in the thick blanket you kept back there for emergencies, heading behind the steering wheel and caught your first serious glance of the beautiful woman in the rear-view mirror.

Doing a quick search on your phone it took three different shops before any picked up, the result being unsatisfying.

“Are you doing okay?” you asked, as you looked over your shoulder at the beautiful stranger, her expression much more jubilant in nature now.

“Y-yes, thank you so much for saving me.”

“It was no problem. They said it would be at least an hour before they can send a tow truck to come pick up your car. They’re all backed up. I’m sure other places will be the same.“

“That’s understandable,” she said with an audible sigh.

“Is there somewhere I can take you?” you asked, vicious thunder rudely interrupting the conversation.

“Maybe we should wait out the storm?” she suggested, tilting her head to the side as you could see her nervous expression, her lips quivering.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

The woman sitting in your backseat flashed an innocent warm smile for the first time as a sense of relief overcame her, releasing a deep breath as she relaxed into the seat.

“It’s really coming down still. Would you mind keeping me company back here?” she shyly asked, patting the seat next to her. The rain crashed against the roof harshly, droplets sounding like a golf ball being slammed against the protective roof.

“Sure thing,” you said, crawling over the center console towards the back seat, smacking your head on the ceiling as you took the middle seat next to her.

“Are you okay?” she asked, giggling cutely as you rubbed the top of your head, checking for any bumps but the only thing hurt was your dignity.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

You fumbled in the dark, turning on the dome light to shatter the darkness as you both flinched, regretful that you didn’t give a warning beforehand.

“Sounds like you’re having a bad day,” you said, stating the obvious.

“You could say that,” she shyly said, her charming voice light and airy as she tucked strands of light blonde hair behind her ears.

“Thank you again.”

“Of course.”

“I was so worried when my car broke down, I didn’t know what to do,” she said, her arms still discernibly shivering.

“You’re safe now. Are you still cold? I can turn the heater on.”

She shook her head politely. “I think I just need to take this wet jacket off,” she said, removing it from her body as you took it from her, placing it on the empty seat next to you.

“That’s better.”

When she was in the right position you caught a glimpse of cleavage, but you tried not to stare.

The attractive blonde had on a simple white top underneath with a thin gold necklace that resembled more of a bra than a shirt as she adjusted the straps. Her pretty shoulders were exposed and didn’t have on more than a pair of jean shorts. It wasn’t that surprising why she was a bit chilly.

“You know...I’ve heard that huddling together is a good way to keep warm.”

“Is it?” you asked, feigning ignorance as you admired the color in her pupils.

“It’s worth a shot,” she replied, making her way over to your side as she climbed your lap. She left the blanket on the seat and avoided making the same mistake you did, clearly losing the height advantage you made it easier.

Her legs wrapped around your waist as you could feel the body heat rising already as she got comfortable.

“Is it helping?” you asked.

“I’m not sure yet,” she coyly said, pressing her body closer against yours, her breasts pressing against your chest.

“I’m feeling pretty warm myself now,” you said, looking into her gaze. She had the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen, just one look made you liable to get lost in them.

“I wouldn’t want you to overheat now…” she said, abruptly grabbing on the collar of your shirt and gently tugging on it, pulling it up and over your head as you lifted your arms to assist her.

“What about now?”

“I think I’m feeling much better.”

“Good,” she replied.

“You’re so pretty.”

She blushed, her cheeks helping warm the rest of her body. “Thank you. I think we can still do better,” she said, searching for the dome light and turning it off, leaving the car cloaked in almost complete darkness. Only scattered lightning strikes assisted in lighting up her features.

“What's your name?” you asked. She hesitated for a moment placing a hand on your shoulder and began tracing your bare chest with her fingertip.

Without saying another word she traced random patterns, moving from your neck down your abdomen, her touch tantalizing your senses. She moved back up to your chest as she formed the letter “J”, picking her finger up as she proceeded to write her name on your bare skin.

“...I”

“...S”

“...U”, she traced one more letter as you put them all together, her fingernail digging into your chest just enough to not cause any pain.

“...N”

“Your name is Jisun?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a pretty name.”

Her cheeks reddened again. ”Thank you. For everything. You��re really sweet.”

Jisun caught you by surprise, her small hands cupping your face as she leaned inward. The next fit of lighting struck perfectly, lighting up the back seat as her warm lips pressed up against yours, earning your first taste.

Her lips were impossibly soft, she tasted like a sweetened version of the rain, an addicting sample that you needed more of.

“Without you I’d still be stuck in the rain. Let me pay you back.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Jisun. You really don’t have to do anything.”

“But I want to. You’re my savior.”

You shook your head repeatedly. “I’m not, I would have done it for anybody.”

“I’m glad you did it for me then,” she said, kissing your lips again with more passion, more fire behind her gaze. “Let me do something for you. Anything, please?”

Her offer wasn’t necessary, but it would have been rude to refuse her generosity. You noticed at that moment you couldn’t tear your eyes away from her chest, even in the dim moonlight shining through.

“Can you take this top off?” you reluctantly asked, hoping you wouldn’t get a slap in the face in return.

“Of course. I meant anything,” she said without any delay, lifting her top up and over her head, flinging it behind her as it landed in the passenger seat. Her clothed breasts look so large and inviting, her skin soft and immaculate you just wanted to caress every inch of her.

Jisun didn’t waste time as your eyes roamed her body, dismounting your lap long enough to peel her jean shorts down her wide hips.

“Won’t need those anymore,” she smirked, leaving herself exposed in a cute set of white bra and panties. Her breasts were pushed up perfectly, and you didn’t know whether to stare at her surprisingly thick thighs or her bottomless cleavage.

“You have a really nice body, Jisun.”

Her charming eyes were intense and mesmerizing as she held her sweet gaze on you. “You can see more of it if you’d like.”

“Please,” you said, as soon as your syllable finished Jisun reached behind her back to unhook her bra, divesting it into the darkness as it landed on the rear dash, freeing her beautiful full breasts.

You grew speechless as you stared at Jisun’s newly exposed chest, her breasts such a perfect shape with beautiful cherry pink nipples, stiffening already either in part to the weather or her arousal, you didn’t care which.

“Can I touch you, Jisun?” you cautiously asked, instantly met with an approving nod.

“Please do.”

Not wasting a precious second you grabbed her hips, her skin warm to the touch and silky soft as you explored her body, touching her stomach and stopping just below her wonderful breasts, waiting for her blessing.

“Put your hands all over me,” she pleaded, the necessary invitation you craved as you cupped her warm breasts, delicious flesh in your fingertips as you felt the weight in your hands. Your pants tightened as you ran both thumbs over opposing pretty nipples.

Jisun moaned softly and closed her eyes for a second, trying to hide the desire in them.

“They’re sensitive,” she whined cutely, and you wanted to test that out as you pinched her nipples, rolling them between your fingers and sucked on the one closest to your mouth.

You felt Jisun’s hips buck as your lips latched on to the beautiful bud, applying firm pressure as you slurped gently on it, swirling your tongue around it and earning more beautiful moans that were drowned out by the still obnoxious thunderstorm.

Switching breasts you suckled them hungrily, devouring her tits and starving for more. Her wide eyes filled with pleasure as her nipples grew swollen and doused in saliva. You gave her sensitive tips a brief respite, licking in between her breasts, tasting the sweat that had formed which did little to quench your thirst as you kept your face buried in her cleavage.

You were content to stay there until the dawn broke, smothering yourself with her perfect breasts, but held back as you wanted to explore more of her body, kissing her collarbone and neck in several places, only to be met with more sensual moans.

More kisses, more places to touch, her deliciously soft skin being peppered with your lips, kissing wherever you could as you rested your hands on her back, keeping her small frame close to you.

You returned to her delicious lips, drinking in the intoxicating taste of Jisun as soft kisses grew more heated, hands wandering everywhere in the dark and desperate to touch naked flesh.

Jisun came up for air, gasping lightly as she angled her head into the crook of your neck, sucking on it with much fervor, living her lipstick stains on your flushed skin.

“I want you,” Jisun whispered seductively in your ear, nibbling on your lower earlobe while a hand found your crotch, cupping your bulge wantonly.

“I want you inside me,” she said, licking the side of your neck as her seductive gaze met yours, impossible to look away and you’d do anything she asked at that moment.

“I want you more,” you replied, kissing her breasts as she lifted herself off your lap just enough to slip her panties off, as you unbuttoned your pants, yanking them down to your ankles along with your boxers and you’ve never been so thankful to be freed of clothes.

Jisun took her place back on your naked lap, straddling you tightly as she grabbed your stiffening shaft, stroking you from base to tip slowly.

“Do you think anyone will see us?” she asked, running her slim fingers around your length with a delicate grip as you throbbed, another abrupt roar of thunder that startled you both as you caressed her cheek in reassurance.

“I wouldn’t care if they did,” you said, Jisun flashing a smile in agreement.

Jisun lined her inviting entrance with your shaft, carefully positioning herself and elevated her body. She took an audible deep breath as she pushed her hips down and sank down onto your cock, the tip penetrating her and sending a flood of pleasure as you both moaned together.

“F-fuck…”

Jisun leaned in as her hands wrapped around the nape of your neck, taking a second to adjust and began to take a ride on your stiff throbbing cock. One look in her sensual eyes heightened your arousal and her hips moved, stretching her out ever so gently.

The rain had finally calmed down, no longer causing alarm but now a calming presence, adding a beautiful soundtrack to what was happening in your steamy backseat. Jisun moved her naked body in a slow, precise rhythm, savoring every time your shaft left her pussy, anticipating the next stroke inside her.

Jisun was incredibly tight as was expected but not like this. Her pussy was so warm and wet, smothering your shaft as she impaled herself with half your length, taking in the pleasure one step at a time. With each ride she released a steady stream of erotic moans, her voice an orgasm in itself.

“You feel really good inside me,” she whispered in your ear, insisting on keeping her cute voice low as if she were your own personal sexual ASMR, every syllable of honey shooting tingles up your spine.

“Not as good as you feel around my cock,” you replied, placing your hands on her soft buttcheeks, squeezing the soft flesh she grew drunk with pleasure.

Jisun quickened her movements, taking more of you into her tight pussy as her wet lips gripped your cock tightly, demanding you stay inside her for as long as she wanted. She bounced her juicy ass on your crotch as your hands moved to the front of her torso, squeezing her breasts again as your shaft became covered in her slick juices.

“Suck my tits more,” she demanded, grabbing the back of your head and pressing her flawless breasts into your face, suffocating you with her delicious mounds. You stuck your tongue out and licked what warm skin you could, released from the confines of her flesh after several seconds as you took her sensitive nubs into your mouth, stimulating them endlessly with your lips and tongue.

“Just like that, fuck,” Jisun moaned, bouncing on your cock harder as you planted sloppy kisses on her breasts, palming and messily suckling on them as if Jisun’s voluptuous soft breasts were a top-notch meal and you had an insatiable appetite for them.

You did everything you could to Jisun’s tits, licking and slurping on her delicious nipples, teasing them with your tongue, biting them, devouring every inch of her breasts. She grew wetter with every movement, and you took a break from the buffet that was her chest, relaxing into the seat once more.

“How does that feel? Do you like when I ride your cock?” Jisun asked, keeping up the pace with every rock of her hips. Your arms spread wide and rested on the back dash as you watched her amazing breasts endlessly bouncing, unable to take your eyes anywhere else.

“It feels so good,” you said, your body feeling weightless, every sensation in your body being amplified as Jisun bounced and bounced with a limitless amount of energy. Her demeanor had changed tenfold since you met her, the stranded girl worried to no end now had lust-clouded eyes, full of wanton need and moaning easily into your ears.

“I want to make you cum. I want to keep riding your cock until you finish inside me.”

Jisun didn’t let you respond as she smothered your lips with her own, furiously bouncing on your cock as she grabbed your wrists and placed your hands on her breasts, helping you squeeze them as the loud smack of flesh against flesh filled the car.

“Play with my nipples. I’m so close, I want to cum on your cock.”

You did as instructed, wanting to fulfill any desires Jisun had as you pinched both of her hard nipples, tugging at them, teasing them with your fingertips, rolling them in between your fingers and doing anything to give her the stimulation she was desperate for.

“That’s it, please don’t stop. I’m going to cum on your cock so hard, oh god!”

Jisun’s tight dripping pussy clamped down hard around your cock, pulsating in random waves to validate her words. Her plump cheeks smacked against your lap, arms tightly wrapping around your neck as her breasts smashed against your chest, breathlessly moaning directly into your ears.

“Cum for me, Jisun.”

It wasn’t that she needed permission, but your beckoning words gave her an extra boost she needed, sending her over the edge. Her mouth agape as her head snapped back, toes curling and her breathing shallowed, holding on to your body as if she were going to collapse otherwise as her warm pussy pulsated rapidly as slick dripped out between her thighs.

Jisun’s half-lidded eyes grew heavy, closing them tightly for several moments as her intense climax washed over her like a hurricane, every ounce of pleasure hitting her all at once as she rode it out, gyrating her wide hips in slow lazy circles.

The fatigue set in as Jisun slowly opened her eyes, and as she came down from such an intense high you noticed the windows had fogged up considerably, only adding to the erotic atmosphere.

Jisun struggled to speak at first, still dealing with the aftermath of her climax as she took in several deep breaths, causing her chest to heave up and down which only aroused you even more.

“Your turn,” she said breathlessly, resting her head on your shoulder, catching her breath.

Jisun looked up at you, still in her post-orgasm haze and stared longingly into your eyes, sweetly whispering three words.

“Cum inside me.”

There was no better offer than that. Jisun did her best to move her hips, but you did the rest of the work, gripping her waist and thrusted frantically as sweat dripped down your brow.

You knew you weren’t going to last much longer, matching her slow and steady rhythm and driving yourself deep into her tight warm cunt.

“J-Jisun...I’m going to cum…” you moaned, the tightness in your core being impossible to ignore. She placed her hands on either side of your neck, her face a hair's breadth away as your impending orgasm grew closer and closer.

“It’s okay, fill me. Please, cum for me, give me everything.”

Just like before, her words were the trigger to your own climax, and with the last bit of thrusts you buried your shaft deep inside her heavenly pussy as you erupted. You grunted and groaned as your throbbing cock emptied into her, filling her to the brim with your thick, creamy load, her tight walls milking every drop out of you.

You fired everything you had into her body until your balls were drained, feeling just as breathless as Jisun did moments ago, gasping for air as she rested her pretty head on your warm chest.

Neither of you said a word for some time, communicating only in tired gasps and pants until you broke the silence.

“I think it stopped raining finally. Do you want me to try to call someone again?”

Jisun shook her head weakly. “It can wait until morning. The streets might be flooded, who knows how long it will take them.”

Her fingers ran through strands of your hair, playing with it lazily, “You can take me back home if you don’t mind. It’s not that far from here, I was on the way there before my car died.”

“Of course. Just tell me where to take you.”

“Let me get my things real quick,” Jisun said, almost forgetting that you still had your cock inside her.

“I guess I should get dressed first,” she giggled, as she dismounted herself from your shaft, her pussy leaking your hot load down her thighs.

“Fuck, you came a lot,” she said with a proud smirk as she slipped her top back on to cover herself up, not bothering with underwear as she pulled her jeans back up.

“I don’t exactly have anything to clean up with, sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I like the way it feels dripping inside of me,” she said, cautiously exiting the car. You got dressed yourself and moved to the driver’s seat, taking note of how the rain was thankfully now barely a sprinkle.

Jisun grabbed her purse, turning her hazard lights off and locked the door, slamming her car hood shut as she entered the passenger seat of your car, pulling down the visor to look at herself in the mirror.

“I’ve never had sex in a car before,” Jisun said, putting her seatbelt on as the engine purred to life.

“Me neither. First time for everything I guess?”

“Definitely.”

“Where to?”

Jisun punched her address into your GPS, and you looked behind you as you carefully pulled back onto the highway.

Her place wasn’t that far off, closer to your apartment than was expected as you pulled into a driveway, lights flashing onto a door with the number 009.

“Here we are, safe and sound.”

“Thank you,” Jisun said, and you couldn’t help notice the way the seatbelt rested in between her large breasts, making them appear even bigger and more noticeable.

“...You’re coming inside, aren’t you?” Jisun said, resting her hand on your thigh. “I won’t murder you. I promise,” she added.

“Well in that case...” you said, Jisun giggled cutely. You both stepped out of the car at the same time, letting her lead the way.

“I have roommates, but they’re not going to be here until the morning. We have this whole place to ourselves,” she said, keying in the number to her electronic lock as it magically opened.

Her place was smaller than expected as you slipped your shoes off and placed them in the entryway, next to several different pairs in different colors.

“How many roommates do you have?”

“Just a couple. Most of those are mine,” she responded, placing her shoes next to the pile.

You took a step onto the wooden floor that led into the living room, Jisun gesturing to take a seat on the couch centered in the room, small and cream-colored with tufted upholstery. Lounging back in the seat you were greeted with a surprising amount of comfort, trying not to hit your leg on the wooden coffee table in front, coming up to about your knees.

Jisun briefly panicked, noticing a leftover container of ramen and a can of orange fanta were left on the table as she quickly scooped them up and disposed of them.

“Sorry, my roommates are a bit of a slob.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, heading towards the rather small kitchen that doubled as a laundry room.

“Sure, I’d love some.”

“What kind would you like?”

“There’s more than one kind?”

Jisun chuckled as she opened a cupboard that she was barely able to reach filled with different colored boxes.

“Let’s see, we have blueberry, raspberry, ginseng, sleepytime, green tea, green tea with lemon, green tea with lemon and honey, ginger with honey, ginger without honey, vanilla almond, white truffle and... earl grey.“

“...I think you made some of those up,” you said, cocking your head to the side.

“How about raspberry?”

“Raspberry sounds great.”

Jisun grabbed a red box out of the cupboard, shutting the door and grabbed two black mugs, placing them on the counter as she poured water in an electric kettle.

“Shouldn’t take too long,” she said, settling down on the couch next to you and crossing her legs. You couldn’t help but notice that without the security of a bra her nipples were poking through her top, not that it wasn’t anything you hadn’t seen moments ago, but it did spark a fire in your loins.

“Are you hungry? I can whip something up real quick, I’m a really good cook.”

“I wish I was. I had a big dinner before the drive home.”

“Oh, okay,” Jisun said, disappointed. “I hope it was delicious.”

“It was, but you taste better,” you smugly said.

Jisun couldn’t help but laugh at your cheesy compliment, as there was an awkward moment of silence for two people who just had sex in a backseat.

“So, Jisun…” you said, struggling to come up with anything to say to break the tension. “This is a nice place.”

“Thank you. It’s small but cozy, and the rent is really cheap. There’s three of us here so I can afford to just work part-time right now.”

“What do you do if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Not at all. I’m a…” Jisun hesitated for a second, shyly smiling.

“I’m an erotic model.”

Jisun tried to hold back a giggle, failing miserably as she covered her mouth with her palm.

“Oh really?” you said. “So I’m not the only person who has seen you naked?”

“Sorry to break it to you. It’s not always nude though, sometimes it's lingerie or swimsuits, but I definitely don’t have my clothes on for most of the shoots.”

“You certainly have the body for it.”

Jisun blushed. “My roommate got me the job, she does the same thing. I wasn’t so sure about it at first, but then I realized then that my large breasts could work to my advantage, and it pays really well.”

Your thoughts raced of Jisun in various nude poses, baring herself for the world to see. It was at that moment that a loud beep came from the kitchen, signaling that tea was ready to be made.

“Be right back,” she said, heading to the kitchen to prepare the tea and came back right away.

“So, what about you?” Jisun asked as she sat back down.

“I’m a photographer. I haven’t been lucky enough to shoot erotic models though,” you said.

“How fun. Maybe someday you can take nude pictures of me.”

You could only dream of such a thing.

Another beep as Jisun excused herself, returning with two mugs of freshly brewed raspberry tea, handing you one, the delicious room flooding the room before you had your first sip.

“Careful, it’s hot.”

True to her word it was, but no less delicious, the aroma wafting and hitting your nostrils as you tasted it.

“Do you like being a model?”

“I love it,” she said without hesitation. “I love my body, I’m confident enough to stand in front of a mirror naked and be proud of what I see. I get to show the world that, have fun, and get paid to do it.”

“I’d love to see your work.”

“I’ve got some copies around here somewhere,” she said, bringing her mug to her lips and taking a loud sip.

“But I’ve got a better idea. I’ll be right back.”

Jisun headed out of the living room, bare feet walking up the black spiral staircase that led up to an unexplored area. You were left in silence, sipping on piping hot tea that warmed your throat as you waited for her return.

Not long after, Jisun came back into frame, standing at the top of the staircase in a very sheer black robe, loosely tightened that did little if anything to cover up her voluptuous body. She took slow purposeful steps down the staircase, her slender legs exposed through a slit in the robe as she took her time in making her way back down.

When her feet stepped off the last step she straightened her back, placing her hands on her hips and presented herself. You could see her breasts desperate to be freed once more, sporting more deadly cleavage as her small tight body was the perfect package of sexy and cuteness.

“Wow,” you said, your mind going blank as you were at a loss for words, putting your mug down on the coffee table.

“What do you think? This is what I wore for my last shoot,” she shyly said as she spun around, letting you see the glimpse of her bountiful backside.

“I think I need to see more,” you said, smirking as you tried not to salivate over her yummy body.

Jisun beamed in response, loosening the belt on her robe and letting it fall off her shoulders as it fell to the ground. She took a few steps towards you, letting you feast your eyes on the lacy pastel pink lingerie she had changed into, displaying all her delicious curves for you.

“You look so sexy, Jisun,” you said, as she sat back down on your lap, and you couldn’t take your gaze off her for a second, wrapping your hands around her waist.

“I really need to thank you again,” she warmly said, planting a kiss on your forehead.

Jisun stalled her words before continuing, placing her steaming mug next to your own.

“You took such good care of me,” Jisun said, initiating the kiss once more and pressing herself against you until both of your bodies were flat on the couch, your feet almost hanging off the edge.

“Hurry up and take this off,” she requested, pulling on your shirt, and you rushed to lift it off your body, tossing it on the ground. Jisun planted her soft lips down your body, starting with your neck, leaving a trail of kisses down your chest and your abdomen as she began unzipping your pants.

“I didn’t get a chance to suck your cock in the car,” she said, dragging your pants and underwear down to your ankles, resting a hand on your thigh as she pumped your shaft slowly.

“Mommy wants to take care of you now,” she said, staring into your eyes as she gave smooth delicate strokes from base to tip, working every inch of your throbbing shaft.

“Mommy?” you repeated.

“You’ll call me that won’t you, baby? It’ll really turn me on.”

“Of course, mommy,” you said, not hesitating for a second. Jisun’s eyes brightened and her heart skipped a beat as she laid down flat on her stomach, spreading your legs wide and rubbed your thighs.

Jisun puckered her lips and kissed the very tip of your cockhead, swirling her tongue around it, swiping against your leaking slit.

“Mommy...wants...to...pay...you...back,” she said, planting a wet kiss on your shaft after every word, smacking her lips against your flesh, leaving her wet mouth everywhere.

“You’re going to feel so good after I’m done with you, baby.”

Jisun gave your balls a tender squeeze, licking your shaft from base to tip, long delicate strokes of her tongue painting your cock as she explored every inch.

“Mommy can’t wait to make you cum again.”

The frantic licks around your shaft lowered, Jisun licking up and down your balls as she kissed her way back up, making sure not an inch of your shaft was left without feeling her soft lips.

Jisun knew you were more than ready, eager lips sliding alongside both sides of your needy shaft, running her tongue all over. When she reached your swollen head her soft lips wrapped around your shaft, sucking your tip gently as her cheeks hollowed, causing a gasp to leave your mouth.

She focused all of her attention on pleasuring you, moving just past your tip as it disappeared into her warm mouth, sucking on your shaft at her own deliberate pace.

“Fuck, mommy,” you said as Jisun began to bob her head up and down, lips sliding down halfway to your base and coming back up as her wet tongue played with the underside of your throbbing shaft.

Jisun’s dreamy eyes were etched onto yours, lifting her feet up into the air as she fondled your balls, gently massaging them as her mouth went as deep as she could, swallowing up every inch.

“That feels so good, mommy,” you moaned, feeling your shaft being coated in her warm saliva, as her slow pace continued, demonstrating she was no slouch when it came to her oral skills.

“I can tell. Mommy loves hearing you moan.”

Jisun took her sweet time, building you up slowly as you experienced a paroxysm of intense pleasure. Her warm wet mouth surrounded your throbbing needy shaft as she sucked every inch from base to tip, gently sliding up, and moving back down in smooth, carefully timed strokes.

You felt so many sensations throughout your body, unable to focus on any individual one as you stared up at the high ceiling for a moment, taking your eyes away from the oral assault between your thighs.

Your ears were filled with the wet sounds of Jisun slurping on your shaft, her tongue swirling around as her hands were kept busy, one hand resting on your thigh as her nails gently scratched your skin while the other caressed and played with your balls, making sure you were feeling as good as possible.

“M-mommy…” you whined, returning your focus to Jisun intensely pleasuring you, regretting looking back down at your crotch as it was quickly becoming too much to take.

Jisun didn’t back down, her delicious soft lips sliding down your length effortlessly, keeping those sparkling eyes on you and driving you absolutely insane, sucking off every inch of hard flesh as she caused endless moans from your mouth.

Your gasps and moans were music to Jisun’s ears as she parked her mouth at the end of your base for several seconds, tongue swirling in random patterns and you’re not sure how you didn’t immediately explode then and there.

She withdrew slowly but not without a few additional slurps, stroking your shaft gingerly as sat back up to her knees, positioning herself on the inside of your spread legs.

“You like mommy’s big tits, don’t you?” she asked, not that she didn’t already know the answer as she adjusted her lacy bra, making her breasts bounce.

“I love them, mommy.”

“Good,” she replied, taking your wet hard cock and sliding it under the fabric of her bra, trapped it between her soft pillowy breasts, causing your breath to get caught in your throat as you moaned loudly.

“H-holy fuck, mommy.”

Jisun didn’t say a word as her lips curled, spitting in between her cleavage repeatedly as she used her breasts to give devastating pleasure, grinding her chest against your shaft and causing friction.

Your shaft was being squeezed tightly by warm flesh as Jisun took you between her beautiful tits, just the sight of it overwhelming your senses. Her breasts felt so good as your shaft was sliding in and out of her delicious cleavage, aiding in lubrication by her saliva to keep the friction smooth as could be.

Jisun grabbed her breasts and squeezed them tighter, wrapping the delicate mounds of flesh around every inch of your throbbing shaft as you could only lie against the couch helpless, watching your shaft disappearing in the warm soft cavern of her amazing breasts.

“M-mommy I can’t take much more,” you cried out, feeling powerless to do anything but give in to her.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy doesn’t want you to hold back, fuck these big tits until you explode. Can you do that for me, baby?”

“Y-yes, mommy.”

JIsun gave a bright expression on her features as your shaft was bombarded by so many sensations, warm suffocating flesh squeezing and massaging as you were thrusted into her cleavage, unable to escape her delicious large mounds as that aching feeling in your core snuck up again.

“M-mommy, I’m gonna cum!” you breathlessly said, Jisun’s bouncing breasts doing everything they could to send you over the edge.

“Cum for mommy.”

You couldn’t take anymore, with just a handful more pumps in between her large breasts you exploded, throbbing inside her cleavage and sent spurts of thick cum everywhere, landing on her delicious breasts and collarbone as you painted her body as she looked down proudly at you.

You felt your senses being attacked all at once as Jisun’s soft tits milked your cock, squeezing out every drop as your thick semen stained her skin, making sure you were granted as much pleasure as could take.

Your orgasm continued for several moments as Jisun freed your cock from her pillowy confines and stroked it, causing an uncontrollable twitch as she stroked it gently.

“You made such a mess all over mommy,” she said, rubbing your cum into her skin as it glistened, running a thumb against the sensitive underside of your cock as your whole body shook.

You caught your breath as you were able to come back down from your high still feeling the effects of your intense orgasm lingering through your body.

“You’re still hard, baby,” Jisun said, carefully working her fingers around your sensitive shaft.

“It’s because you turn me on so much, mommy.”

Jisun shyly smiled. “Good, that just means I get to drain your balls one more time. Let’s move to the bedroom.”

Jisun lifted herself off your body, helping you off the couch as she took you by the hand and led you up the dark spiral stairs into a nearby room that was unoccupied.

Her bedroom was cute and small, not unlike Jisun herself. Capturing the room’s focal point was a comfortable looking large bed, dark purple sheets with matching purple walls and light pink curtains that were drawn open, letting the moonlight in.

You didn’t have much time to admire the rest of the room as Jisun led you by your cock to the bed, and quicker than a hiccup she had unhooked her bra and slipped her panties off, lifting herself onto her mattress.

She scooted back onto the pillows, spreading her legs wide and letting you see the delicious pink flesh waiting for you as she flashed the most inviting eyes as she made a come-hither motion with her finger.

“Mommy wants to feel you inside again. Come fuck me.”

You never liked to keep a woman waiting, scurrying onto the bed between her spread legs, knees pressed firmly into her mattress. Gripping your shaft strongly you didn’t dawdle as you lined yourself up with Jisun’s heat, taking note of how wet her pink pussy had gotten as you slipped a finger inside her for just a second.

“Mommy is so wet,” you said, sucking the delicious juices off your finger.

“You should do something about that then, shouldn’t you, baby?”

You answered by pressing the swollen tip of your shaft inside her warmth, followed by the rest of you as Jisun was filled with hard flesh again, not having the patience to tease her.

Her beautiful moans filled the air, the slick lips of her tight cunt desperately clung to your shaft as you quickly formed a rhythm, gazing down at her body as her eyes were needy and thirsty for more.

You planned to do just that, grabbing her wonderful thighs and wrapping your arms around them as you bottomed her out with every thrust.

“Just like that, baby. Mommy likes it deep.”

Jisun lifted her arms up over her head, resting them onto her stack of pillows and letting you see an even better view of her breasts bouncing with every thrust. The pleasure was intense as your hips moved faster, Jisun’s delicious juices lubricating every inch of your hard shaft as you slid in and out of her warm hole with ease, feeling breathless as you fucked the cute busty woman.

“You fuck mommy so well, you like my pussy that much?” Jisun asked as you felt the need to increase your speed even more, endlessly thrusting balls deep in her tight petite frame.

“Y-yes, mommy, so fucking much...”

“That’s what I like to hear, baby. Keep fucking mommy just like this.”

Jisun’s honey voice instructing you just what to do escalated your arousal levels, putting you into an orgasmic trance as you kept her filled to the hilt, savoring the incredible warmth and wetness that never left your shaft.

“You feel so good, mommy,” you moaned, every inch of your sensitive shaft being squeezed by hot dripping flesh as you kept the fluid movements going, fucking Jisun’s tight perfect body as you began to feel the sweat misting on her flushed skin.

“Harder, baby. Can you make me cum again?” Jisun asked, biting her lip as you immediately gave in to her wishes, pistoning your hips in a way that made them smack against her luscious thighs, causing them to ripple.

“Of course, mommy.”

Your hands swapped from her thighs to her delicious waist, gripping her warm skin as you looked into her gorgeous features, increasing your pace even more and driving your shaft inside her from tip to base, loving the erotic stream of moans that escaped her sultry lips.

“Fuck, baby, you’re doing such a good job. Don’t stop, I’m almost there,” she said, squeezing her breasts as she pinched her nipples and it seemed the additional stimulation was her favorite way to climax.

“Cum for me, mommy, please cum for me,” you pleaded, watching the wonderful lustful expression on her face. It didn’t take much longer, every thrust inside her warm pussy causing her walls to pulsate harshly and in no time flat you had made her reach her peak again.

“Mommy’s gonna cum!” Jisun cried out, her back arching off the bed as she gripped the sheets with one hand, playing with her sensitive nipples with the other. Her toes curled into the mattress as she screamed with pleasure, soaking your shaft and the sheets underneath as she came even harder than her first orgasm in the car, the intensity running through her body as she struggled to see straight.

You kept the motions going through every last second of her strong orgasm, feeling her shaking in your arms as you didn’t stop fucking her for a second, dangerously close to following behind her.

“F-fuck, baby,” Jisun gasped out, eyes glazed over as she was able to regain her senses.

“You made mommy feel so good,” she said, struggling to breathe properly as her eyes closed for a moment, feeling lost in euphoria as she came down gracefully.

Her walls had squeezed your shaft so tightly, as if they were trying to steal your load early from your shaft as her thighs trembled in time with the aftershocks of her body. Your pace had lowered during Jisun’s climax, but you were ready to kick it back in full speed, giving the deepest strokes you could handle.

“Are you going to cum for mommy again? I can feel you throbbing so much.”

“Y-yes, mommy,” you said, feeling light-headed as your hands roamed bare skin, leaning forward to capture her plentiful breasts in your palms.

“Cum inside mommy. I don’t want it anywhere else,” she demanded, as your hips increased the range of motion, thrusting wantonly inside her dripping hot cunt, chasing your climax.

“Cum for me, baby. Cum inside me, fill me with another thick load. Please, baby, cum for mommy.”

Jisun’s thick thighs wrapped around your waist, letting you know that pulling out was not an option, not that you ever would have done so otherwise. Your thrusts sped up with more frequency, moving as fast and deep inside her warm inviting pussy as possible.

Your face was close enough to hers for your noses to touch, and you gave one her more chaste kiss as you felt that aching in your core that crept up on you, staring into each other's eyes and trying to extend your pleasure for as long as possible.

“Mommy, I’m cumming!” you cried out, as Jisun squeezed her thighs around your body tighter, making sure you were going to give her every drop.

You couldn’t even count the number of thrusts it took before you erupted, throbbing wildly into Jisun as you began filling her up, sending your warm cum into the depths of her pretty pussy, her soft walls seizing every spurt out of your shaft.

It was your third orgasm of the night and yet was the strongest one, each shot of cum deposited in Jisun accompanied desperate moans as you emptied your balls inside her, trying to fuck your creamy load as deep as it would go.

“You feel so warm, you came so much for mommy,” Jisun said, caressing the side of your face, her tired eyes still locked onto you.”

She still had her legs locked tight around you, refusing to let go and you were just as eager to stay in this position forever, your shaft drowning in the combined juices of each other.

Jisun made sure your balls were drained inside her fully before she loosened the grip of her, causing your twitching shaft to depart from her pussy. She lifted her legs and pressed them together to give you the most optimum view as your load leaked out of her pussy, dripping out little by little as she played with her creamy splayed lips.

Still trying to catch her breath Jisun pressed two fingers into her semen-soaked pussy, into the deepest part as she collected the mess you left inside her, bringing it to her lips and sucking them clean.

“You taste so good, baby,” she said, gesturing you to come over as you collapsed onto her sweaty body, using her breasts as the perfect pillow.

You rested on her body for several moments in silence, neither of you saying a word as you were able to feel her chest heaving, equally exhausted.

“Do you want to shower with me before we go for round three?”

“R-round three? I can barely move-”

“Jisun-unnie! We’re back home, we brought back chicken!”

“Shit!” Jisun muttered under her breath, staring at you like a deer caught in headlights as she found herself in a state of panic.

“They came home early?”

“Seems so, they certainly picked the worst time. I’ve never brought anybody home before.”

“Well...maybe we should take that shower now,” you suggested, as Jisun bowed her head in agreement.

“Good idea, it’s down the hall. Come on.”

The two of you scrambled down the hallway, entering a door on the left just in time as Jisun locked it tightly. She managed to turn the water on just in time as two women could be heard climbing up the staircase, stepping onto the second floor.

“Jisun-unnie?” one called out, curiously looking around the second floor. The lights in Jisun’s room were still on, clothes scattered around the floor that left a trail of evidence.

“Unnie should really learn to put up her clothes,” one of the women said, picking up one of the discarded garments and inspecting it.

“This isn’t her shirt.”

“I don’t think she wears boxers either,” the other woman said as she furrowed her brow.

The two women exchanged confused glances that turned into surprise, putting together the pieces one by one.

“She also never showers at night,” one woman said as they looked around the room.

“I didn’t see her car in the driveway when we pulled in...”

It didn’t take a detective to figure out what was going on, exchanging playful smirks on their faces.

“We should probably leave them alone…”

“But I wanna know who got in unnie’s pants!” one of them whined, a little too loud for comfort that could be heard through the shower. You and Jisun nervously stared at each other under the hot water, trying not to say a word.

“It’s not polite to be nosy, let’s give them some privacy.”

The two women headed back down the stairway, making their way down into the kitchen

“I think they went back downstairs,” you said, staring at Jisun’s soaped-up naked body.

“Are you sure?”

“No, but I don’t hear them talking anymore. Your walls are really thin.”

“Tell me about it. I had to buy a quieter vibrator, learned that the hard way,” Jisun said, her cheeks flushed red with embarrassment.

“But now that we’ve gotten a little privacy…how about you fuck me against this wall? Think you can go again?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same thing?”

Jisun smirked devilishly, spinning carefully on her heels as she took up position behind the nearest glass pane.

“Don’t keep mommy waiting.”

#fromis9 smut #jisun smut #fromis9 #jisun #reader insert #male reader #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction

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wrathandgreed · 3 years

Text

A crafty MC making goodbye gifts for the demon bros (unromanced and romanced).

Word count: 3.5k

Notes: I’m a huge crafter (knitter, crocheter, spinner, weaver, cross stitcher, etc) and I’m currently knitting my husband a winter hat, so I started trying to figure out what a crafty MC would make the brothers as goodbye gifts when they go back to the human world.

Also, this got REALLY REALLY long.

Lucifer

(Unromanced)

This guy is hard to make stuff for.

His aesthetic is VERY tight and leaves no room for mistakes

So a simple winter scarf, in business-black, is probably the way to go.

Somewhat lux yarn, cashmere/silk or alpaca/silk, so it has a sheen

He travels to the human world sometimes, and Diavolo has winter themed events in Devildom sometimes, so a scarf isn’t totally impractical.

He would appreciate the amount of time you spent making it, even if he didn’t get a chance to wear it that often.

(Romanced)

Let’s get more personal, now. You still have the same problem with his aesthetic, and the fact that if you want to give him something ~~personal~~ he won’t be able to wear it openly. His pride says no.

He’s stern in public, but affectionate in private.

You knit a medium-sized decorative pillow cover for his bed, in his signature wine-red.

It’s simple and elegant and can sit on his bed like it’s something he picked up in a Hellhome Goods store, and only *he* knows it’s a private gift.

After swearing him to secrecy, you get Solomon to help you charm the pillow, so it never pills up or wears out, and it maintains your scent forever. (Actually, it’s fair to say you do this for all of the romanced gifts).

“I thought, you know, if I can’t be there with you every night, something of me can?”

Awkward MC is awkward.

He not only appreciates how much time went into the gift (who knows how busy you are better than Lucifer?) but that you spent that much time thinking about him.

Mr. Acts of Service over here. Every stitch is something you did *for him*

You assume he’ll just leave it on the bed, and maybe, if you’re lucky, it’ll help you be the last thing he thinks of at night and the first thing he thinks of in the morning.

Maybe he’ll smile when he sees it, and some of his weariness will lift.

Oh, if only you knew.

Mr. “Stern In Public” wraps himself around the pillow every night. Well. Every time he manages to sleep. Which, let’s face it, isn’t every night.

But when he DOES sleep, it’s with that pillow. If he can’t sleep wrapped around you, this will have to suffice.

Finds he doesn’t sleep well when he travels, because he refuses to bring the pillow with him.

If asked, he says it’s because it’s not important.

But he just doesn’t want to lose it.

It’s too important to him.

Mammon

(Unromanced)

You’ve seen this boy’s room.

You’re not spending hours and hours and tons of money making him something.

You love the guy, but you’ve seen how he takes care of his possessions.

Most of what he owns is chucked aside when the next new-shiny comes along.

You know he loves you to bits and he’ll be careful with whatever you give him.

But “careful” has a different definition for Mammon than for some of the others.

So you knit him a hat. A trendy, slightly-too-small hat in black with a small yellow stripe on the brim.

You can use some lux yarn because, for a single-skein project, investing in cashmere or mohair or something isn’t too awful.

It looks really great on him - the fluff of his white hair, the small yellow stripe, then the wash of black as contrast. It makes his eyes pop and his skin look even warmer.

He wears it to a shoot one day and the photographer loves it

Now everyone wants one

But he has the only one because it’s handmade

Suck it, losers!

The Avatar of Greed finally has something everyone else wants that no one else can get!

(Romanced)

Yeah, you’ve seen his room. You’ve practically lived in his room. But you know he’ll be careful with anything you give him because he loves you.

It would break his heart to have to ask you to fix something you made for him.

You know he’s going to suffer when you leave

You want him to know that you’re always there, even if you’re not *there*

So you knit him a sweater

A big, oversized sweater out of super soft chunky wool with tons of texture.

You finish it early so you can wear it around your room for a few weeks. On the rare nights you sleep alone, you sleep in it.

Again, get Solomon to enchant it.

Now it smells like you.

You wouldn’t notice, but a demon’s sense of smell is far stronger.

“I know it’s not, like, fashionable or anything. But it’s comfy and it can be…..a portable hug?”

His face turns red and he winds up stammering. Obviously. So he puts it on to avoid having to look at you.

Chucks it on over his tshirt. He immediately pulls the neckband back up over his face to take a deep inhale from the fabric.

He looks really cute in it

(He looks really cute in anything, let’s face it)

Might start crying.

Hug him pls.

Any night he feels lonely (which is most nights) he wears this sweater. Falls asleep in it half the time.

It really is like a hug, and the boy needs all the hugs he can get.

Leviathan

(Unromanced)

Out of all the brothers, Levi is the one who will appreciate STUFF. No matter what you make for him, he’ll love it.

It’s limited edition! No one else has anything like this!

So this boy is getting crocheted plushies.

(They’re called amigurumi, and he’ll appreciate knowing that)

You make a mobile for his room

Hanging from it are little plushies of all his favorite sea creatures

Henry 2.0 is the biggest

But there’s a few jellyfish

A whale

You had to completely invent a pattern for a kraken, and it came out okay!

You had some extra yarn, so you made a few extra jellyfish

They get suction cups.

Now he has jellyfish in his tanks and outside his tanks

Spends the next hour rigging up the mobile over his tub so he can see them before he goes to sleep and remember how much his true friend cares about him.

(Romanced)

This took….time to make.

You had to basically invent two patterns from scratch

There was a LOT of frogging.

And swearing.

When Levi opens the box and pulls aside the tissue paper, there’s two crocheted figures

One of each of you

(The one of you may or may not be dressed as Ruri-Chan)

“You made these…..for me?”

Tell him you made ONE of them for him. You take the one of him and hug it, “This one comes with me. So I’ve still got you.”

(Don’t let him cry!)

(Too late)

Then you show him the best part - each figure has a magnet in one hand.

When they get close to each other, the magnets snap together and the figures hold hands :)

Even though the two amigurumi will be in two separate realms, those magnets will want to find their partner.

Levi is floored - this is just like something out of an anime! Like two halves of a locket or something!

He can’t even find words. Possibly not for the next hour or two.

But he makes the cutest little squeaks and the verbal equivalent of keysmashes.

Like Lucifer, he sleeps with your gift. But he also carries it around his room. It has pride of place on his desk, and he purchases a stand so you can sit with him while he games or does his online schooling.

He talks to it like he would talk to you, especially on busy days when you can’t actually talk to him on the D.D.D.

It eases the feeling that you left Devildom and forgot about him. Eases - just a little - the jealousy of every human in your world who gets to talk to you. Because none of THEM have a handmade you. Just him.

Satan

(Unromanced)

This guy is either the easiest one to make for, or the hardest.

Like, you could make him a stuffed kitty. Or knit him a tie. But he’s not a super sentimental guy (unless romanced) and, in the end, that’s just stuff. His room is FULL of stuff.

Soooooo, you take out your sewing skills and sew him a traditional Sherlock hat - the deerstalker one, the one that never was actually in the books, but is still associated with the character.

The most straightforward of the brothers, Satan is indeed touched that you spent so long making something for him and he tells you so.

Insists he’ll wear it when solving mysteries.

You laugh, but he actually does wear the hat when reading mysteries now.

It reminds him of the trip to London - how he got to solve an actual mystery, save his brother, and see the sites with his friend.

(Romanced)

YouTube made it look so easy.

It’s just paper, right? Paper and thread and a needle. You can sew clothes and stuffed animals. How hard can it be to sew together pages to make a book?

Oh, my sweet summer child.

You considered actually pulping and making your own paper, but after the seventh ruined batch of signatures you’re grateful you talked yourself out of that one.

You also considered an actual leather binding, but go for boards and a more simple Japanese sewing technique.

This project is the perfect thing to give to Satan - not just because it’s a book, but because making it is causing you SO MUCH RAGE.

Who needs firewood when you have the ruined attempts of your gift?

You may have thrown various attempts on the floor and stomped on them before chucking them in the fire.

It takes weeks but you finally get the book together. Now the REAL work can begin.

Every book the two of you read together. Every book you discussed. Every book you recommended to him. Every single one gets a page - a title, a date, and a discussion of your discussion of the book.

The book itself becomes a tour through your growing relationship.

While not as stern as Lucifer in public, Satan is also definitely fond in private - he’s completely unsurprised to receive a book as a present, but once he begins leafing through it, the semi-smug smile vanishes.

He looks shocked, and his hold on the book gentles.

His fingers run down the page, tracing your handwriting on a page particularly precious to him.

Speechless for a few minutes, he finally returns with only “I love it.”

Said so softly and sincerely that you can’t doubt his sincerity.

There are blank pages at the end and he begins to use them to document newer books he’s reading - ones he wants to discuss with you later.

Asmodeus

(Unromanced)

Good luck keeping your gift a secret!

Asmo loves craft and crafty things, so he’s always curious about what you’re making and fascinated with the process.

Probably helps with suggestions for the others, especially for a romanced brother (although WHAT you see in them is beyond him, after all, what can THEY have that Asmo doesn’t?)

Because he seems to pop up out of nowhere, he’s already seen his gift a few times. Thankfully, he thinks you’re making it for yourself.

Bonus, he’s whiny and jealous about it, and obviously wants it for himself. So, score. You know he’ll like it.

It seems simple; a pair of fingerless gloves in his signature hot pink. But the yarn is mohair lace (you’ve cursed at it many, many times for tangling on you) held double with merino/silk black yarn.

The gloves are lacy and airy, sensual and soft. They feel wonderful to wear, and look great with a majority of his outfits.

He absolutely squeals and hugs you when he opens up the gift - the gift he was so jealous of! Of COURSE you were making it for him this whole time!

Wears them constantly. His Devilgram pics start having a lot of “what am I holding?” themes. Cups of coffee or hot chocolate. Someone else’s hand. A ticket for an absolutely fabulous play. And a LOT of peace signs and finger-hearts :)

(Romanced)

This one requires the cooperation - willing or not - of everyone in the house.

You start with your DDD. That’s easy enough.

Since you’ll need Sol’s help anyway, it’s easy enough to plunder the pictures on his phone, too.

The rest of the brothers you get, one by one. Belphie’s you steal while he’s sleeping, although you found nothing useful on it. Beel just lets you borrow his phone. You ask to borrow Mammon’s while he’s gambling and he doesn’t notice that it takes you an hour to give it back. Satan - the real photographer - must be taken into your confidence - you might need his help later anyway. But he’s particularly close to Asmo, and knows how to keep his mouth shut.

You stalk Lucifer for a few weeks. You ask Satan for advice. You consider asking Diavolo to just order Lucifer to hand over his phone.

Finally you just ask him for it.

Getting a hold of Asmo’s phone is the hardest bit. You have to wait until he’s deep in a spa day, hanging around in his tub with both a sheet mask AND cucumber slices.

Then you make off with his phone. And go through the photos.

His wonderful Devilgram-worthy pictures you ignore. You start looking for the ones that he rejected, but kept. The one where both of you cracked up laughing right before the photo snapped. The one where he dropped his hot chocolate and then stole yours.

The two of you in clay face masks and toe spacers? Yep. The one you took of him with super-wide eyes as he put on mascara? Definitely. Selfies of you two surrounded by his brothers, by Sol, by Simeon, even a few with Luke.

The one Satan took of the two of you dancing at one of Diavolo’s balls, so lost in each other that the rest of the ball might as well not exist? Of course.

You combine them with the ones taken by everyone else in the house.

Culling them for the best takes weeks. Because you don’t just want the ~~prettiest~~ pictures or the ones designed for social media.

You pick the ones with emotional meaning, ones of important events, but mostly you choose pictures of genuine laughter and affection. Ones that show how much the two of you love each other, and how much true friendship exists in the house.

How much he’s not alone, and how much he is loved. How much the people around him appreciate him.

With Satan and Solomon, you gather and enchant a simple glass cube.

It displays these photos, gently lit up, like the digital picture frames in the human world.

“I want you to remember me,” you say quietly. “I want you to remember how much fun we’ve had, and how much I love you for you.”

Not gonna lie, Asmo cries.

The cube moves around his rooms depending on where he is - it’s by his tub if he’s taking a bath. It’s on his vanity when he’s putting on his makeup. He credits it with helping his relaxation and makeup game.

It’s always on a nightstand by his bed before he goes to sleep. Sometimes he just lays on his back, puts the cube on his stomach, and watches memories float through it.

What you wanted - for him to remember that he’s loved for more than his sexual prowess - comes true. The pictures remind him of the life he has outside of a bedroom.

He starts spending more time with his brothers. He starts taking more pictures.

His followers appreciate the diversification in his content :)

He appreciates how much you love getting texts of those photos - the not-social-media-ready ones, but the REAL ones.

Beelzebub

(Unromanced)

I mean, you could just bake the guy a dozen cakes.

But then he’d eat them and they’d be gone.

And you can’t make him anything that looks like food, because he’d eat it.

You’ve finished your gifts for half of the brothers before you even figure out what to make for him.

And then it comes to you…..socks.

He’ll use them.

He won’t eat them.

They’re not the most interesting gift, but you’re running out of time.

You actually manage to find a pattern covered with colorwork triangles that mimic his usual shirt.

You get Satan to charm them for you - the problem with handmade socks is that they wear out FAST. Not anymore!

Beel LOVES them.

(To be fair, he’d probably love anything you gave him)

Once he knows they won’t wear out, they become his Game Socks.

Like most athletes, he becomes superstitiously obsessed with the socks, wearing them for absolutely every game he plays.

Is convinced they help him win.

(Romanced)

You encounter basically the same problem as above - what on earth to make him?

You want something that reminds him how much you love him, and it absolutely can’t be anything he could even be tempted to eat, because he’d never forgive himself.

You try a number of times to build a small tapestry loom, but that skill seems to be beyond you.

Finally you have to beg Lucifer to pick one up for you in the human world.

Once you get it, you’re off and running.

Now, just because things can’t look like food doesn’t mean it can’t be inspired by it.

Red yarn, the exact juicy red of an apple - but here, just an abstract circle. Mixes of pale cream, yellow, and red in a triangle - an abstract pizza slice.

Those cookies Barbatos makes? There. The broccoli-cheddar soup you learned to make for her? Now just an orange blob with tiny green squiggles. And on, and on.

And buried, scattered throughout, little woven hearts.

The hearts are made of slightly different yarn, puffier and thicker, so they stand out just a little bit.

In the end, you have a decent-sized wall hanging, full of texture and shapes that are just reminiscent enough of food to bring a smile to Beel’s face, but not enough to actually be worth eating.

He passes the hanging every day, and every day he brushes his fingers over the yarn or through the fringe; a physical reminder of you.

Belphegor

(Unromanced)

This guy is probably the easiest one to make things for.

Is it soft? Is it cuddly? Can he use it as a pillow? Can he snuggle it like a stuffed animal?

Click “yes” on any of those questions, and you have a happy - well, a slightly less annoyed - Belphie.

Which is why you take this as a challenge. The easy answer - a pillow - is BORING. And the other easy answer - a blanket - would take WAY too much time.

So, like Levi, he gets a plushie.

But not just any plushie.

He gets a plushie of Lucifer.

Lucifer…..on a pastel unicorn.

Belphie starts cackling the moment he opens it, which is fair, because you laughed a fair bit designing and making it.

He starts leaving it where Lucifer can find it, then saying that the elder can’t do anything about it, because MC made it and there’s no way he’d want to harm anything made by MC.

Satan tries to steal it.

In the end, an “anonymous” Devilgram is created, dedicated to the “adventures” of this particular plushie.

It’s all fun and games until Diavolo wants one.

(Romanced)

Well, for your boyfriend, the time and effort involved in making a blanket is just fine.

You debate endlessly - comprehensive color scheme? Granny squares or stripes? How heavy?

You go with your gut instinct - this isn’t a boy who cares about color schemes or blanket styles.

(Just look at his clothes, seriously.)

He cares about one thing - comfort.

You find the softest, smushiest yarn you can, and a pattern you can tolerate working on for like 100 hours.

You go old-school; a granny square blanket like the ones that pretty much every person had thrown over the couch in the 70s and 80s. The perfect nap blanket.

Black… mostly black, with some bright accent colors. Kind of obnoxious accent colors, actually. You figure it’ll appeal to his (dubious) sense of humor. Also it’ll piss Lucifer off seeing it around the house, clashing with literally everything in the oh-so-perfectly-decorated Gothic interior.

This one requires….special enchantment.

A little bit of ritual, and that blanket will fold up into a tiny square; easy to carry from place to place.

Belphie is torn between wanting to carry it around everywhere, like his pillow, and to leave it in the attic room, always waiting for him.

Depending on his mood, he’ll do one or the other.

But no matter what, he also sleeps juuuust a little bit better under it, snuggled up under your love.

You make him the Lucifer plushie, too. It’s too funny not to :)

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

Note

I know his birthday is close, but

Cock sucking manipulative senpai Vil

It seems like it's a trend amongst the third year birthday crumbs why stop a nice pattern

Yume’s a kinkii motherfucker, ya’ll know that, right? Darlings? (๑╹ω╹๑ ) Splendid, HOPE YA’LL LIKE SOME DICC MILK ON YOUR CRUMBS HAHA.

“Oh, my...Are you already done?” The hairs on your body stood on its end as soon as you heard Vil’s cold voice. You back straightened up out of instinct as you slowly dragged your mouth off your senior’s still hardened, seemingly unsatisfied dick. Aesthetically pleasing to look at and well-taken care of, exactly what you expect from Vil himself, but was extremely difficult to please. You started wondering if you’re really cut out for this job, or why you’re even here in the first place. “That’s quite the boring performance you gave me there, Darling.”

You chewed on your bottom lip, grimacing at the lingering taste of his precum on your tongue. You didn’t know how many times Vil had told you to suck him off over and over again, but just by the milky white substance dripping down your jaw and probably some in your hair as well since they feel so damped, you guessed it’s been quite a while. “...I-I just can’t, anymore...” His harsh criticism struck a nerve in your feeble little heart, mocking you for doing a terrible job on something that you weren’t really an expert on doing.

Embarrassment filled your core as you began wanting more than to stood up from where you were placed and walk away, but you can’t. Not when your hands are bounded tightly behind your back like this, your shaking knees can’t even carry you more than five meters away. They were but an incredibly soft strings of fabric, yet shows no signs of loosening up no matter how much you struggle against it. Obviously, it was something that Vil purposely chose himself, since the traditional ropes would’ve caused unwanted abrasions on your skin.

Despite knowing that however, you instinctively tugged on your restraints as some sort of defense mechanism against Vil’s condescending glare. “...I-I did what you asked, r-right...? Multiple times, actually…Surely, you must be satisfied no-“

“You must be so full of yourself to think something as pathetic as that can ever satisfy me.” You flinched as Vil raised his voice as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and leaned closer to your face, enough to see your frightened expression. “Do tell me, what part of that was satisfying, huh?”

“You’re too dependent on your hands, so I binded them away. I was hoping that by doing that, you’d make the effort to do better with just your mouth, but all you gave me was disappointment, Dear.” He spoke without hesitation, drilling onto your head your flaws and imperfections. “Why do you shy away from using your tongue, I wonder? You should have the natural talent, and yet you barely used it at all. Don’t you see how wasteful you’re being right now?”

He gave out an exasperated sigh, having the audacity to act like he’s the one having the hardest time and not you. “Don’t think I didn’t see how you never swallow either.” He scowled. “You try to distract me by holding my seed inside your mouth like a chipmunk, but in the end, you spit them right back out. How rude.”

“T-That’s...” You tried to defend yourself, but stopped when he let go of your hair, patting them a bit to flatten some strands that’s been sticking out.

“Enough, it’s fine. I don’t need your excuses.” He said as his hand reached for something on a nearby desk, giving you a mesmerizing view on how long they really are. However, upon glancing down at you and seeing your pitiful expression, eyebrows scrunched up together and in the verge of tears, his eyes did soften up a bit. “...But I understand, you’re still my adorable little potato right now so, I don’t expect you to reach a professional level any time soon.”

You heard him giggle, which caught your attention and looked up at him, only to see an amused smirk formed in his lips. “So, I’ll just have to train you more until then.” He said, licking his lips seductively as you widened your eyes once you saw that particular item in his hand. “Be grateful, Honey.”

Once he saw you starting to recoil back nervously despite your restrictions, Vil grabbed you by the back of the head. “...You’ll do that for me, right? After all, it is my special day.” He cunningly whispered out as he revealed his special item close to you; a mouth-opening device. You let out incomprehensible, protesting noises as he forcibly clanked them onto your mouth, attaching them from the back of your head until it gave a satisfying click as a lock. Your jaw tightened, not used to having your gums pried open this far wide.

Content with being on his two legs alone, Vil chuckled down at you, who looked back at him fearfully. You tried to talk to him, to try and beg your way out of this, only to end up releasing panicked meekly sounds as drool began to drip down your jaw. “How adorable, keep making sounds like that and I might end up confusing you for a livestock that’s about to be slaughtered.” He mocked as he grabbed both the sides of your head as soon as you started shaking your head in defiance. “...You’re completely at my mercy, aren’t you?”

“Open your teeth for me.” His dominating voice demanded, making your body weaker than it already is. His sharp glare didn’t leave your teeth clattering against each other for too long, you soon opened a trembling entrance for his excited dick to pass through. He chuckled at your obedience, despite the hesitance and sense of unwillingness expressed through your actions. “...That’s a good girl.”

You let out one last squeal as he wasted no time in practically shoving his whole shaft inside your awaiting mouth hole. Closing your eyes shut, you desperately tried to ignore your activating gag reflex as you felt him rub against the roof of your mouth. He was long and thick enough to have you chocking as he hit the back of your throat. You already had many instances where Vil ‘trains’ you to take him more confidently like this, but you just don’t believe that this was something that you can get used to in a short-time period. But you were sure he’d be disappointed again if you don’t try your best though and you didn’t want to start over again.

Vil sighed slightly as you nervously began to use your tongue to increase his pleasure in-take, hoping that coating him with your own saliva could make his thrusts a little less rough. Thankfully, it seemed like it was the correct decision to make as you practically heard him give out a smirk, his hands staying on your head as he moved his hips back and forth. Gurgled sounds came out of you as he repeatedly knocked on the back of your throat, saliva already slipping out of your strained lips. “...That’s right, you’re doing better now than before, you learn fast too…I like this part of you, it’s endearing.” Vil praised you as a way to encourage you on your efforts even more. “See? I knew you had this in you.”

Giggling, his thrusts began to transitioned in a more fast-paced, harsh kind of way all the while grabbing a fistful of your hair as a lever. Your teeth grazed against the base of his cock, sending shivers of pleasure in Vil’s system that could drive any man crazy. Luckily, his self-control isn’t all that weak-willed, though that’s not to say that he didn’t want it. He could at least say that it was addicting, some kind of pleasure button that he wanted to abuse constantly and bring himself to cum just by your salivating mouth alone. But he had stamina and he could go on forever if he so desired, forever locked onto the warmth of your mouth without necessarily cumming.

However, despite all of that, Vil knew better not to take too much advantage of his new-found enjoyment that it is your mouth hole. It’s not fun to play with a broken toy after all, you’re a pretty little thing too so that would be too wasteful. “I think it’s about time, Love.” Vil whispered, but you only ended up squealing in surprise with your eyes going as wide as saucers as he buried himself inside you in suffocating manner. “Make sure to take it all in, okay?”

Inhaling through your nose, you gasped out a choke as you felt his hot, thick semen exploding from inside your mouth. It filled up space really quick, since there wasn’t really any to begin with and slipped down your jaw. Most importantly, you felt the stream-like substance flowing down your throat and into to your esophagus, filling your stomach up without even trying. You whimpered once you realized that his ejaculation period had finally stopped after a while, but he kept a strong hold against the back of your head. “No, I’m not gonna pull out yet.” Vil strictly said, staring down at your teary, begging eyes. “I did say to take it all in, right? As long as there’s still cum that you have yet to swallow, I’m not pulling out.”

His eyes were testing you, mocking you to do better for yourself but you knew deep down that no matter what you do, he’ll still get the upper hand regardless. Still, you couldn’t just hang around bounded in the floor like this with his twitching dick in your mouth, your jaw is killing you. So, with a heavy heart, you tried to swallow what was left inside your mouth, even going as far as licking the head of his dick to rid it off some remaining semen. You felt disgusting, like you’ve really downgraded yourself into a sex slave, a pig, only for Vil’s personal use. You’re not quite sure on how to get out of this predicament afterwards, or even if it’s possible to do so.

As if he already knew that his dick was licked clean and cum completely swallowed by you, he slowly pulled out, dragging your saliva in a messy fashion. A thin bridge of it was connected to the head, a clear evidence that you even tried licking him off and it really stirred the embarrassment in the bottom of your stomach. You whimpered as he even had the audacity to place his wet dick on your cheek, dragging some disgusting fluids across your skin by practically slapping you with it. Soon, you heard Vil chuckle and flinched as it turned into a full-blown laughter, like a wicked queen when her everything goes according to her plan. He placed a hand on your head, patting you like a pet for a job well-done.

“Haa...That was amazing, Honey. You certainly made my day, thank you.” He said with a smile, surprisingly not a mocking one or a smirk for that matter but a genuine grateful smile. It made your stomach churn to see he could still smile like that despite what he just made you do. “Now, it’s just common sense to give you a well-deserved reward now, right? You’ve done such a good job after all~!”

He then pulled away from you, giving you a sense of relief that everything was over, that you don’t have to do any more humiliating things but...It was odd, if his so-called ‘training’ is already over, why was he not releasing you out of your binds? Your jaw is cramping from your mouth being spread open like this that it was really starting to hurt real bad. Somehow, you didn’t like where this ‘reward’ was gonna go.

Vil came back with a generous slice of his own birthday cake, carefully cut with its beautiful edible decorations still in-tact. There weren’t a single crumb on the plate, suggesting how clean the slice really was. He was smiling and you thought you saw his cheeks pinker than usual, but that could just be his make up like always. It’s kinda out of place and bizarre to see him getting flustered now of all times anyway. With a fork, he cut a piece of cake and slowly brought it close to you.

“Say ‘aah’, Darling.” You were confused at first, not trusting his all of a sudden act of kindness. He still has the mouth-opener clasped onto your gums; how does he expect you to eat that? However, just when you thought to give up trying to make sense of the situation and actually lean closer to let the delicious piece of cake enter your open mouth, Vil stopped. “Oh—“

You flinched as his eyes focused on your jaw and you panicked, wondering what it is. He then smiled eventually, but one that is clearly laced with mischief. “...You missed a spot.” He said, as his long finger traced over a line from your jaw to the one side of your lips. Lifting up his finger in front of you showed a small, yet thick bits of cum that escaped you earlier. “You shouldn’t waste such nourishment, Darling~”

Then, to your utmost shock and disgust, he scraped off the semen on the piece of cake that he was about to feed you. It joined along the other ingredients of the food in a scarily well manner, as if that tinge of white had already been one of the decorations from the start. You were left speechless, but Vil only smirked at your reaction, seemingly finding extreme enjoyment in your cute shocked face. “Alright...” You flinched, physically retracting away but can’t really go any far than you already are now as he brought the fork closer to your open mouth. “I’ll say it again.”

“Say ‘Aah’~”

Is it obvious? IS IT OBVIOUS that Euphoria is affecting the way I’m writing right now? Because YES, it is affecting me so bad OMG— I need to get it out of my system because I can just TELL that this will affect me in the future too lol

Vil reminded me of Nemu and I’m— *sob* I thought I was sinful, but Euphoria is traumatizing—

#twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere #Birthday Crumbs (Vil)

282 notes · View notes

suoyou · 3 years

Text

[wip] 真金不怕火炼; true gold fears no flame

incomplete wip. 2744 words, rated t.

originally drafted for the wangxian weddings for maubrey collection. a sequel to baby’s first wangxian fic 蓝色生死恋; a blue love (to live and to die for)

Wei Wuxian wakes up the morning after his wedding a little cold and a lot sore, skin tingling like it’s new. He’s spent a lot of both lives waking up feeling like his skeleton had sneakily rearranged itself overnight in the worst way—a rib in his throat, a femur jammed up through his belly, vertebrae scattered around him like loose gravel.

But today he wakes up with the sun in a crescent on his hip, smiling at the edge of the window, feeling like every part of his body for once is in the right place. Brain in his head, head on his shoulders, heart in his chest. Lan Zhan is, of course, already awake, staring up at the canopy of their wedding bed. Not wide-eyed, and possibly for the first time in Wei Wuxian’s life, lazy.

“Lan Zhan.” He can hear his own voice vibrate against Lan Zhan’s body.

“You’re awake.”

“What were you doing up, earlier?” Wei Wuxian presses a deep yawn into the side of his husband’s—husband’s!—neck, the kind that sends shivers all the way down into his ankles and feet. “It was barely dawn. Don’t tell me you weren’t tired? I can’t believe I didn’t tire you out last night. I don’t even know if I was awake for our last round.” The thought makes heat flare in Wei Wuxian’s cheeks. They’ll have to revisit that.

“Hm,” Lan Zhan says, and the low thrum of laughter runs through him. It’s mostly silent; Wei Wuxian feels it more than he hears it. “You were, but only just.” Then, “I thought of a song.”

“A song?”

“Yes.”

“About what?”

“You,” Lan Zhan says, both fondly and in a way that says this should be obvious.

“About my oral prowess, I hope.”

“It was not.”

“Is it happy, at least?”

Lan Zhan is quiet. “My other song for you is not very happy, is it?”

“Well,” Wei Wuxian pushes himself upright so that he’s lying on top of Lan Zhan, rests his chin on his folded wrists. A constellation of hickeys and bruises stretches across Lan Zhan’s neck, and Wei Wuxian takes his time studying them. He hasn’t seen his own skin yet, but he can tell the violet blooms are already fading on Lan Zhan, burnt back by the heat of his golden core. “I think someone a lot lonelier than the Lan Zhan I married wrote that song, is all.”

“Mm.” Lan Zhan holds Wei Wuxian by the waist, steady, steady, like balancing the weight of the world on him in the cradle of his palms. “But you’re here now. To have you like this, it would be impossible to feel lonely again.”

“To have me like how?” Wei Wuxian asks, propping his chin in his palm, wide-eyed with mock wonder. “Will the esteemed Hanguang-jun care to elaborate?”

Lan Zhan’s eyes darken, narrowing for a flicker of a moment before he moves, and Wei Wuxian ends up on his back so fast that ah, there, there’s that feeling that his bones are all in the wrong places—in the best way, in the only way he hopes to know it again, with Lan Zhan’s hands on his body and heart against his. Beating, beating, beating.

☄

For some reason, Wei Wuxian is surprised when he gets up and Lan Zhan offers him clothes that look virtually identical to the ones he’s always worn—dark, red accents, wristcuffs laced with ribbons. Everything is a little nicer, and even for someone who never cared to notice, the fabric folds heavy and well-made in his hands. There are cloud patterns embroidered in black thread along the collars, and peonies in the shoulder patches.

He stands in the middle of their wedding chamber, naked as the day he was born, turning them back and forth without slipping them on.

“Do you not like them?” Lan Zhan asks, already decent with his satin underrobe on.

“I love them, they’re just so—me?” Wei Wuxian lowers them.

“Would you like me to put them on?”

“Yes!” Wei Wuxian says. He lifts his arms helpfully when Lan Zhan comes to him, slipping the sleeves of a new red underrobe over him and leaning close to do the ties at Wei Wuxian’s waist. He’s so close that Wei Wuxian simply leans forward and kisses the crown of Lan Zhan’s head. Then his temple. Then he stops, because if he doesn’t, they will never leave this chamber.

“These were commissioned from a different tailor,” Lan Zhan says when he slips the black outer robe onto Wei Wuxian’s body. “I was concerned that they wouldn’t get your measurements right, but I’m glad to see it fits.”

It fits like a hug around Wei Wuxian’s body.

“The collars of the underrobe are quite high?”

Lan Zhan looks at him. “That was intentional.”

Wei Wuxian stares blankly until the faint ache of hickeys registers, and he puts his hands over his face and groans, “Ohhh. Oh, I won’t make it through the week like this.”

“Wei Ying.”

“I love you, Lan Zhan, I really do, with all the force of ten thousand weeping mountains—a hundred thousand—but my heart will give out. It will cave.”

Lan Zhan ignores his theatrics and turns him around to run his hairbrush through Wei Wuxian’s hair. He’s always so gentle when he does it for Wei Wuxian—not that he’s rough on himself, but he certainly doesn’t seem to take as long, brushing out every lock of hair between his fingers.

“I can’t believe the Chief Cultivator can’t even take a few days to himself. After his own wedding!” Wei Wuxian says as Lan Zhan twists his hair up into a soft knot. It’s elegant and something Wei Wuxian will likely never learn how to do himself. “I want to stay with you all day. I want to lie in the sun with you and then go running by the beaches at sunset. Well—I’ll run, you can walk gracefully, as you do. I want to sit in the grass with you and feed the rabbits until the wet seeps up into my robes.”

“Mm. So do I.” Lan Zhan pushes his hairstick through the base of the knot. “But it will be a short meeting. Just a report and a written acknowledgment that we are married, that the sects have bore witness that we are married. And that any assault upon you would be considered an offense to the Lan Sect.”

Wei Wuxian’s knees go soft and it has nothing to do with the exhaustion from the night before. “Lan Zhan...”

“You could come if you like, but I would not ask you to.”

“Because you’re flawless and perfect.”

Lan Zhan exhales. It’s his favorite way to laugh. Then he smooths his hand down the free length of Wei Wuxian’s hair. “I’ll meet you in the Jingshi for lunch.”

“Come back to me soon.”

“Always.”

☄

For two weeks after the wedding, Lan Zhan has reduced duties and Wei Wuxian a leave of absence from classes, but it has been a while since he watched the sun turn the sky blue, then grey, then lace-white as it rises over the blanket of clouds. Once, on a night hunt, Wei Wuxian had climbed high enough in the Cloud Recesses that the clouds were finally under him, and he looked over the endlessness of it, feeling like he was standing at the edge of existence.

By the third day, after all the guests leave, Wei Wuxian finally gets some much-needed solitude. It’s a weird thing to need, for him, anyway, considering how much time he’s already spent alone. When he sits in the meadow of rabbits in the back hills of the Cloud Recesses, he lies down with his arms spread until he can feel rabbit nosing at his pockets.

“I haven’t brought anything for you,” he says, eyes closed. The sun is orange and veiny against his closed eyes. “Since when did you guys even like me enough to look for snacks?”

There are voices coming down the mountain path, though, so Wei Wuxian sits up and brushes stray bits of grass off his back and knees, tries to pick some out of his hair. Before his wedding, he would not have cared, but he’s husband to the Chief Cultivator now. He needs to look the part.

“Morning,” he greets, and blinks when it’s a handful of older Lan women carrying the rabbit feed today. Tending to the rabbits is disciple work, usually, but vaguely, he knows they had to change the structure of classes for the two weeks he isn’t teaching.

“Oh! Wei gongzi. We didn’t expect to see you out here.”

“Hanguang-jun isn’t with you?”

“He’s busy in the mornings,” says Wei Wuxian, hands jumping to the collars of his robes. They’re bound tight, thank heavens. “I’ve simply been unwinding after a wedding like that. It really takes everything out of you, doesn’t it?”

“Being married does that to you,” says one of the women, sagely. Lan Danyi if Wei Wuxian’s memory serves him correctly. The other women nod, murmuring their assent.

“It...takes everything out of you?” he asks. That doesn’t sound pleasant, but he hasn’t been anything but happy since being married. Is he doing something wrong?

“When does it not?” says another. Lan Ruyi, who looks so much like her sister that they could be mirror images. “You’re lucky you married Hanguang-jun, Wei gongzi. Marriage is hard work. The first year of a marriage is the hardest year of any relationship.”

“It—it is? Why?”

“Well, of course,” they say, like this should be common knowledge. Lan Danyi bends down and begins feeding the rabbits their carrots. “You will probably have it better than we do, but when you get married, who do you become? You lose your sense of self. Before this, you’re your own person, but you don’t just belong to you anymore, don’t you? Of course, Hanguang-jun would never be so uncouth, I see that he doesn’t mind that Wei gongzi continues to wear his own robes. Which is as it should be, do you remember that Zhao Xiaohong that Lan Hongqi married a few years ago?”

“Oh,” says Wei Wuxian. He hadn’t thought of that.

“Of course, of course,” says the third woman. Wei Wuxian well and truly cannot remember her name, which is going to be a problem if he’s going to be part of the Lan Sect now. “But your future isn’t your own anymore, either. You walk a two-person path now. When one person hurts their feet, you must check your own for thorns. Sometimes the path diverges and you want to take a different one than the one they choose.” She sighs. “And you have to choose the one they want to take.”

“I think learning how to walk one, honest path is romantic in and of itself, Jianying.”

“Perhaps. But not all of us can marry Hanguang-jun, so really, how romantic could it be.”

“So you can’t be headstrong, it’ll be such a pain,” Lan Ruyi says. “It’s easier for someone who grew up in the Lan Sect, but marrying in is always harder.”

“Which is what makes the first year of living together the hardest,” says Lan Danyi, nodding. “You don’t want to be someone difficult to share space with. But, Wei gongzi, I’m sure you and Hanguang-jun won’t have a problem at all. Right?”

“Right,” he says faintly. A morning with the rabbits is almost always calm and soothing, but today he feels neither calm nor soothed. “Uh, have a lovely morning.”

“Wei gongzi, go safely!” they call after him as he slip-slides back onto the path.

He gives them a wave, and starts heading back alone.

☄

“—ying. Wei Ying?”

He blinks. Then he comes to, piece by piece, chopsticks still aloft between his bowl and his mouth. A bite of married-couple spiced tripe drips its fiery oil into his food, a little red coin on the pebbled surface of his rice. Lan Zhan has leaned forward, mouth set in a taut line of concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!” Wei Wuxian shovels his food into his mouth. “Nothing, Lan Zhan.”

His husband—will he ever tire of that title? Evidence points to no—is not convinced. Not that Wei Wuxian expected him to be, but he also doesn’t expect Lan Zhan to set his own bowl down, resting his chopsticks over the rim, and insist, again, “There’s something wrong.”

“Lan Zhan, it’s really...really, it’s…”

Of course, Hanguang-jun would never be so uncouth, I see that he doesn’t mind that Wei gongzi continues to wear his own robes.

“Well,” says Wei Wuxian, and Lan Zhan leans forward minutely to listen, “Lan Zhan, do you hate that I dress this way?”

This question apparently catches Lan Zhan off-guard. He blinks once, twice, then asks, “In what way, Wei Ying?”

“Like...myself.” Like my unmarried self.

A faint ribbon of confusion slips between Lan Zhan’s eyebrows. “I love you regardless of what you wear.”

“You probably prefer me not wearing anything, right, Lan Zhan?” Wei Wuxian jokes weakly.

“Yes. But,” says Lan Zhan, as Wei Wuxian wheezes at his frankness, “what is this about?”

“I just thought,” Wei Wuxian says, feeling wild and stupid, because they’re married, they’re married, why is he being silly about this, “that. I don’t know, I’d look different after I got married. To you? That I should look different.” I want to look different. I want to look like I belong to somewhere, to someplace, to someone.

“Different how?”

“Uhm,” he looks down into his rice, chili oil staining the grains a bright, yolky gold. Gods, this is ridiculous. “Never mind.”

Lan Zhan is a quiet rustle of fabric and footsteps when he stands and moves around the dining table. When he sits down beside Wei Wuxian he’s a warm waft of sandalwood and camellia oil. “Wei Ying,” he says, brings Wei Ying’s hand into his lap between his own. “Something troubles you.”

“It’s not—I’m not troubled, Lan Zhan, I promise. But I guess I. I want to look married to you.”

Lan Zhan searches his face. The concern softens around the edges. “How so?”

“I don’t think I can wear all white or a forehead ribbon, or more than three layers,” Wei Wuxian warns, “but. I felt at home, wearing your white underrobe. It’s not that I don’t like red, but I only wore it so much so you couldn’t see the bloo—”

Wei Wuxian snaps his mouth shut. Really, is this a topic he should be bringing up a day after their wedding, at dinner, no less? He feels like an uninvited, rain-soaked guest falling through the doorway of a place he’s not welcome.

“Stains less,” he finishes in a tiny voice.

“Wei Ying,” says Lan Zhan, and he reaches up to tuck one of Wei Wuxian’s feathery wisps of hair behind his ear. “If that is what you want to wear, then you should wear it.”

“I didn’t want to make you feel bad. You commissioned those for me in mind specially.”

Lan Zhan shakes his head. “Only because I mistook your preference for them. What you wear is your choice, Wei Ying. In this life, you do not have to look any way but the way you want to. All white. All black. A bit of both, or neither. The things we put on our bodies...they’re an extension of us. Whatever that looks like to you now is what I’ll love.”

“What if I want to wear a pink tunic and a green skirt and, and a gold belt, and no shoes?”

“You would look like Nezha,” Lan Zhan says very seriously, “and I would love you all the same.”

Wei Wuxian laughs, and then he kisses his husband right there at the dinner table, and he thinks that being married really doesn’t take too much out of you at all. Lan Zhan steadies him by the arms, and then pulls him into his lap, and Wei Wuxian’s ribs wedge into the side of the table and the bruise from even that will be sore and sweet the way a hickey is.

What a fortune it is to be married, Wei Wuxian thinks, when Lan Zhan has him on the bamboo mat floors and his hair in a dark fan across them, and have the privilege to be nothing but your messy, scattered, glimmering self.

#fic wip #wx #incomplete

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shreddedparchment · 4 years

Text

Pt.32 A Hulk’s Smashing Consequences (Pt.2)

06/26/2020

Pairing: King!Steve x Reader Word Count: 5,568

Warnings: violence, blood, pregnancy, labor, seriously...lots of violence

A/N: I’ll let this one speak for itself. Enjoy! xoxo If you happen to reblog, thanks for helping me spread my work!

“Oh…” You whimper, afraid to move as you try to assess the state of your body.

“Why Queen Flowers pee?” Hulk demands, standing up and pointing at your feet.

“I-I think my waters have broken.” You whisper, straining to feel the pain that you were told would come but nothing.

“Baby come now?!” Hulk asks, his voice a little higher than it was before.

You realize he’s nervous and look up to meet his eyes. He’s shifting from one large foot to the other, hands clenched into fists as he stares at the small puddle at your feet while his movements shake the room.

Watching him chew on his large lower lip looks strange considering the barbaric look of him.

“I think so.” You nod, getting a hold of yourself to keep the massive Hulk at ease. “Hulk?”

He turns frenzied and surprisingly understanding eyes on you. He’s definitely not stupid. You weren’t sure how much of Doctor Banner’s intellect transferred over.

One thing you can see in his eyes…a sweetness you hadn’t know you would find there. Fear of what’s to come, but true concern for you in this situation.

“All I need is to change into a simpler dress.” You’re still in your evening dinner gown. Heavy thick white fabric with golden thread embroidered along every surface in a carefully patterned damask design. “And then I’ll lay down, and we’ll wait. Grandmother will be back soon and-”

Oh, no…Grandmother…

Whatever expression your face takes—fear and panic probably from the way you’re feeling—makes hulk thump towards you, stopping two feet away.

“What wrong?” He worries, voice still higher than normal as his nerves get the better of him.

“How is she going to get back into the castle?” You wonder aloud. “She’s…she went into the village to fetch supplies for when I give birth and…and now I’m giving birth and she’s not here and with all the fighting there’s no way she can get back into the castle! Hulk…”

Oh yeah, panic most definitely begins to set in. You shift closer to your bed and carefully sit yourself down as your breathing speeds up. You can feel the wet from your underdress and it’s slightly uncomfortable but nothing you care to notice now.

“Queen Flower no worry. Hulk go get witch lady.” He promises then moves for the door. “Hulk be right back.”

“No wait, Hulk don’t-!” But he’s already gone, barreling through the castle making the ceiling rain dust. “Don’t leave me alone…”

Your whimper fades into silence as your panic begins to steal your resolve to face this night with courage.

Still you feel no pain yet and you relax a little though your mind is attuned to your body more than it ever has been before. When the time comes, you’ll feel it, won’t you? You’ll know when it’s really time?

“It’s too soon.” You cry, not realizing that tears have begun to trail along your cheeks. “You’re too soon.”

Caressing your bump, you sit there for a long time. You hear Hulk’s words again, his assurance and his calling Grandmother a witch which is nothing new—most of the village folk in Bright Rise had called her so—but it’s strange to hear it tumble from Hulk’s lips as if it were true.

Other worries cross your mind. Worries that you’d spoken to Steve about in the quiet hours of cold naked mornings spent with him in bed. Whispered concerns about the possibilities of giving birth. Things that could happen. Might happen. Things that you try not to dwell on right now when Hydra is attacking the castle.

You can feel the rumbles of what feels like castle walls being smashed. Strange sputterings of whizzing magic like that of Father’s energy that propels him through the sky. You hear that strange buzzing of the red magics you’d seen through the window.

There’s thunder and you’re glad that Thor is out there to help. His power is great, and you feel better with him helping in the fight.

It’s endless, their fighting. Although you can’t see it, hearing it you could almost imagine the carnage. The blood and the sweat of your loved ones, trying to protect you. Time too feels endless. Like the night is stretching out forever and only when the sky begins to shift from black tar to starlit indigo do you realize how much time has passed.

Hulk, where are you?

When you can’t stand the waiting any longer you get up and double over as your back splits with pain.

You gasp, trying to catch your breath as you feel the shift in your belly and finally the pain begins to show.

You push through the first wave and move to the large wardrobe where you know you’ll find your clothes. It’s laid out for you at the very front, a long and white nightdress, soft linen with a ruffled and rounded neckline.

It takes what feels like forever to get the cords around your waist undone. Your skirt falls. You unclasp the bodice and let that fall away too.

Your corset is the hardest. You strain to reach the strings that hold you together and as each pull through a loop loosens its grip, you feel a wave of relief to your back.

Stopping to relish in the ability to breathe deep, you stand there, eyes shut.

As another wave of pressure hits your lower back, you grit your teeth as the pain escalates a little more and your hands are temporarily clenched into fists and immobilized to removing your clothes.

You’re almost yelling in silence, mouth open as you struggle through the pain that forces you to stoop over and cling to the door of your wardrobe.

Only after it passes do you remember that Grandmother had told you to count the seconds of your pains, but you’re so wrapped up in it, your mind has only one mission: Endure.

With shaking hands, you manage to pull away from your clothes and stand naked in your room just as the pressure builds again.

“F-five…” You say to yourself, trying to remember that it has only been five minutes is your best guess.

You can’t concentrate enough to count in your head and focus on those sweet and worrying conversations with Steve about this very moment that you’re now living.

As this pain subsides, you breathe out one shaky breath before you concentrate on moving your arms and pulling your birthing dress on.

You feel a little better in clean clothing and waddle as best you can to your bed but reach the post at the foot before you’re seized by another pain. This one is sooner.

“Four…” You guess. “Ahhh…”

You groan with agony as the pressure rips through you once more. Your hand finds and fists the heavy curtains of the canopy on your bed. The strain pulls against the post and you hear a subtle creak as you rely on it with all your might.

The pain is fading when you find your voice again, and you whimper a tearless sob as you wait for your legs to be strong again.

“Steve…” You call for him, knowing he cannot come.

~~~~~~~~~~

Steve crashes painfully with a cart covered in hay. It falls to pieces around him as his body does its damage.

“Ugh…” He groans before shaking his head once to rid himself of the daze and gets to his feet.

He turns to look at his opponent, Rumlow wearing a strange black metal armor. Over his helmet is painted what looks to be a smudged white skull. He can see Rumlow’s dark angry eyes surrounded by charred flesh. A result of the attack on Bright Rise, Steve would guess.

“I didn’t do that to you, which I am most grieved about.” Steve admits to him, rubbing salt in his wounds.

“You die today.” Rumlow promises. “As does that peasant slut you call a Queen.”

Steve’s blood boils and he sees nothing but Rumlow and the death he will gladly dispense.

“You first.”

In his peripheral, though he does not focus on it, he can see a streak of silver blur behind Rumlow across to a group of Hydra guard attacking the Scarlet Witch. She manages to fend them off however and waves her brother along who runs to a lithe figure in black with bright red hair. Natasha leaps onto the shoulders of a guard, twists her hips and brings him to the ground before she unsheathes the daggers along her thighs and throws them at two more guards that had been approaching from behind. The bodies are sent reeling back with the force of her throw, blades in skulls.

Just as the bodies hit the ground, a dark metallic arm reaches down and retrieves a dagger, and sickening squelch as the blade slides through brain and bone. Dressed in a worn but tough navy leather tunic with dark metal armor welded into the fabric to protect his most vital areas, Bucky tosses her dagger back to her before allowing the momentum of his throw to turn him around and catch a leaping guard by the throat. He slams him into the ground with a deep and guttural growl.

Another leaps onto his back and he reaches back, dark hair flying in the scuffle as he grunts and throws the attacker over his head.

The attacker flies through the air and topples into a grouping of five others that suddenly explode back up into the air and in their place is Scott getting larger by the moment. He grows and grows until he’s as tall as the Southern tower and he stomps his way towards the now crumbling and smoking castle gate shaking the ground as he goes. A few of the Hydra guard attack his large feet—a weak attempt considering they cannot even penetrate the thickened hide of his boot—but Scott ignores them and reaches for his target. He grips the flaming battering ram with one hand, lifts it, and with a squeeze of his fist he crushes it easily. As he drops the splintered wood and broken metal to the ground, he finally notices the guard at his feet.

They run, but Scott’s grip is large, and he takes a handful of them before throwing them over his shoulder.

Their bodies soar through the sky, past the Southern tower where Clint nocks an arrow and sends it flying to strike the flying targets. One, two, three bodies shot down, one after the other as the fly past the tower. He misses one and it nearly soars through an open window when Hope appears almost out of thin air to punch the guard. She disappears but the guard is knocked up into the air and then back down to the ground where he falls in a crumpled heap as Hope reappears over his body only to disappear again into the mass of black that pools around a stooped form that seems to be getting overwhelmed with the amount of bodies being piled on top.

There’s a subtle rumble from the sky before it cracks open and lightning rains down to strike the center of the pile just as Thor’s booming battle cry fills the air and those touching him fall down to the ground as the lightning burns them from within.

Thor’s arm is thrust into the air as he pushes up from the ground and flies up only six feet, lightning connecting with his hammer and sizzling with charge as he moves upwards and it follows him back down as falls and slams his hammer down onto the ground sending more Hydra guard up into the air.

They are caught by a streak of red and gold as the Iron Man flies by along with another streak of white and black steel. They throw the guards they’ve caught at each other to collide painfully, before Iron Man catches two more and sends them zooming towards the castle with a blast from his hand.

A shining gleam of silver cuts through the sky as two large wings slice into one of the guards then catches the second. Samuel holds onto the struggling form until they’re nearly at the peak of the tower then he releases the body and dives back down into the fray with an impressive sweeping wind.

The body nearly hits the stone of the parapet when a distinctive whip fills the air and web is wrapped around the body’s waist and swung up into the air and released. The Spider-Man, in a bright blue and red tunic with trousers to match, swings forward as Steve goes flying back once more, a small puff of smoke left where he’d been standing.

As Steve lands, the Spider-Man plants himself behind him and catches him, helping him stand before pulling Steve’s shield off his back.

“Lose something?” He asks, tossing it to Steve.

“Thank you.” Steve says, nodding at Peter before he shakes his head. “Why are you still down here? You’re supposed to be with her Majesty.”

“Hulk is with her.” Peter assures him.

“Hulk?!” Steve gasps, ducking as a guard dives towards him. He swings up with his shield and knocks him out.

“I got sidetracked. There are so many of them.” Peter gasps, jumping easily over a knocked-out guard that rolls by his feet.

“Well, at least I know she’s safe.” Steve sighs, turning back to Rumlow who is busy fighting a few of Tony’s own personal guards while Steve recovers quickly.

“GUHRAWRRHGGG!”

The animal-like cry is familiar and all too close.

Steve, Peter, and half of those fighting turn towards the terrifying sound of an angry Hulk as he comes barreling around the corner of the castle, trampling enemies as he goes while he simultaneously grabs hold of the ones he doesn’t step on, crushing them in his massive grip or throwing them into walls and dirt.

“HULK!” Steve shouts, desperate to get his attention.

The green mass seems to hear him as he turns to look at Steve and then jumps high up taking with him two bodies, before landing only a few feet away, crushing three others and dropping the two that he holds now lifeless.

As he walks over, Steve can see that he’s dirty, hands dripping with blood and mud as if he’s been fighting for a while.

“What are you doing here?” Peter asks before Steve has the chance. “You’re supposed to be with her Majesty!”

Hulk stops, thumping his chest importantly before he points at the cart rolling in from where he’d just come.

“Hulk go get witch lady for Queen flowers.” He says, voice proud. “Queen have baby now. Queen flower peed on floor.”

All of the blood in Steve’s body rushes up to his head and he can hear nothing but Hulk’s last few words.

“Hulk…is-is Y/N in labor?!” Peter asks, voice shocked and full of worry.

“Mm.” Hulk says simply, then points to the cart where Grandmother is dismounting amongst a large violent scuffle.

Steve is numb, and for this moment at least, his mind travels back to a cold winter morning that he will never forget.

You’re nestled in his arms, naked chest pressed against his own as you rest against him. You’ve got one hand up on the back of his neck, your fingers twirling through his hair. The other is resting against his side and he’s trying not to focus on how it tickles when you move your soft fingers in little circles against his skin.

“May I ask you for something? A gift?” You say, voice clear as a bell and full of hesitation but excitement.

Steve smiles, happy that you’ve become so open with him. He can’t believe you’re actually asking him for things now.

“Whatever you want my petal, it’s yours.” He says, pulling you closer as he wraps his arm around you more tightly.

He can feel the heat of your cheek as his words have some strange effect on you. A pleasing one.

You turn to look at him, resting your chin on his chest as gently as you can.

He turns to meet your eyes, admiring the way your hair is all over the place, messier in the back from how much he’s had you on yours.

There’s a glow to your skin, a sticky goodness that gives him such pride to know that he’s spent so much time giving you the pleasure you’d so rightfully deserved. He will never finish making all of it up to you. But this is as good as it will probably get.

“Tell me.” He urges you when you don’t speak.

“Promise me that you’ll be by my side.” You tell him, voice more confident. “When our child is born, I-I know that women die from giving birth and if those are to be my last moments-”

“No.” Steve protests, stroking your arm and shoulders. “No, don’t say that my flower.”

“Please, Steve, I must say it. I need you to hear me and I need to know that you’ll do as I wish.” You sigh. “If giving birth to our son is to be the last thing I do, I would very much like to have you at my side. I love you but more importantly, I want to see him in your arms.

“I want to know that if I should be gone from his life, that you will be there for him. That he will have his father’s protection and love, forever.” You tell him desperately, voice tight and intense.

“Of course, I’ll be there for him. There is no question about my being there for our son. I will always be there for him.” Steve declares, but he knows that you won’t be satisfied with only this. “And I promise, I will be by your side when you give birth to our son.”

It’s odd, sure, for the father to be in the birthing room but if it’s your wish, Steve will fight anyone who gets in his way to be there.

“I-” Steve begins, looking around at the fighting as Hulk disappears into the battle once more.

Beside him, he can see, hear, and feel Peter blocking blows and shielding him from an interruption to his sudden frozen thoughts.

“Your Majesty?” Peter says, trying to bring him around as he incapacitates two guards with his webs. He flings them away where they crash into more Hydra then flips back towards Steve, stopping to place his hand on his King’s shoulder. “Steve…”

Steve looks at him, swallowing hard as he wars with himself to rationalize this decision.

Before he can, two more figures fight their way into their small tense circle.

“What’s the matter?” Natasha asks, red hair whipping back and forth as she blocks a sword and kicks the attack in the gut with a grunt.

Beside her Bucky takes his fist and slams it into the ground hard creating a localized tremor that unbalances a few more guards that Natasha takes out with smaller daggers from around her hip.

“Has something happen?” Bucky asks, breathing hard, skin smudged with blood and dirt.

Steve still can’t speak so Peter does. “It seems Y/N is having the Prince. Now.”

Natasha’s face whitens as she takes a step closer to them both. “What?!”

Steve meets her gaze and Natasha shakes her head.

“You must go, Steve. Go.” Natasha insists.

“What about the fight?” He hesitates, wanting to run to you but knowing that he’s needed here. What if one of them should die because he leaves? He can’t just go.

“We will make do.” She says.

“She’s right.” Peter chimes in. “Y/N needs you more than we do.”

“But-” Steve begins, already decided on giving in.

“STEVE!” Sam shouts from the top of the crumbling gate, pointing towards the Southern forest where a literal cavalry is breaking through the trees.

At the very front, sitting tall and proud with one eye obscured by a black metal mask that covers only that side of his face, Fury leads a troop of guards dressed in blue and gray armor.

There is a deafening crack as the sky splits open once more and through the inky clouds of the coming morning a streak of blinding golden light rips through. At the head of this light is a figure, body covered in a slender armor of gold, blue, and red. Through the helmet is a slit along the top through which long golden hair spills out in what looks like a mane.

The figure stops midair, seems to float there as if the action require no more effort than breathing, then with her fist leading the way, she dives down and cuts through the throng of black until she reaches Rumlow and lands with a small thud.

“Shall we dance?” She asks him, voice cool and amused. Rumlow slams his heavily armored fists together, a reverberating clang filling the air, before he launches himself at the stranger who appears to be on their side.

Steve’s chest is filled with relief as he spots the reinforcements and turns to give in to his own and Nat’s desires when he sees a glimmering blade moving too fast for him to block, aimed right at the center of Natasha’s back.

Steve blinks and when he opens his eyes, he sees Bucky with his metal hand wrapped around the tip of the blade, the back of his hand resting right up against Natasha’s back.

The fury and loathing that blackens Bucky’s eyes worry Steve for a moment that they might not have seen the last of the Winter Soldier but Bucky breaks the blade, knocks the sword from the guard’s hand, and grabs him by the throat.

“I’m going to knock your brain into the soles of your feet.” He promises before punching the man so hard he falls to the ground, motionless with a dribble of blood flowing from his ears.

As he turns to check on Natasha, he has no chance to worry as she throws her arms around him and kisses him so hard his lips turn bright red.

Bucky is quick to wrap his arms around her and crush her to his chest as he returns her affections wholeheartedly.

When she pulls away, they’re both breathing hard.

“We’re getting married tomorrow morning.” Natasha declares.

Bucky swoons and kisses her again.

Steve turns to Peter who nods, and runs with him, helping him clear a path to the nearest entry.

“Tell her we’re all with her.” Peter says, and once Steve is through, he shuts and blocks the door.

~~~~~~~~~~

You’re nearly completely folded over, clutching your stomach and back and your legs and everything hurts, and you think you might die from this but then it passes and you’re counting in your head.

“Th-Three.” Three minutes. It should be time? Isn’t that what Grandmother said?

No. Wait longer. The pains must be so close together that you won’t be able to tell them apart. Laying down would be beset right now however, and you edge your way closer to your bed again.

You’re sweating and straining, breathing heavily, and also not breathing enough. It feels like you can’t take a breath. Every other sound that comes from your mouth is a whine or a groan or a moan as pain engulfs you once again.

You manage to sit this time, hands fisting the sheets of your bed as you grit your teeth and then remember to try and breath but it’s too much. It’s too hard. You’re sobbing by the time the pain passes, rubbing your stomach in the hopes that this is the way it should be and the pain is not a sign of some distress your baby must be in but you’re too stupid, too uneducated to know.

Most women don’t know these things right away. You attempt to console yourself, knowing that only a midwife would know. A doctor would know. A peasant turned princess turned queen would not know. It wasn’t in your studies.

Still, the feeling of helplessness takes hold and you hate yourself for not doing better.

“I’m s-so sorry.” You grieve with your little one, scared and unsure of the fate you will both suffer.

You lay yourself down as the pain subsides and it doesn’t help but you don’t want to stand so you lay there for only half a minute before the bedroom door is thrust open.

“Grandmother?” You squeak, turning to look at the door for what you hope is reinforcements but instead find all of the blood in your body turning into ice at the ashy blonde hair and the wrinkled skin and the thin and slightly parted mouth of a desperate Lord Pierce.

You sit up more quickly than you thought would be possible, eyes taking in his slightly hunched stance as he moves towards you with careful steps. His hands are wrapped tight around the hilt of his sword.

He’s sweaty, breathing just as hard as you.

You realize that he’s had to fight his way up here. There’s a cut along his cheek and another gash on his leg. Not big enough to matter but proof of the battle.

“You should have just stayed with the Asgardian in the woods.” Pierce says, voice strong and resolute. “You should have never come back. Then I wouldn’t have to kill you and that brat inside your stomach.”

You raise one hand, a plea for him to stop as you go numb to everything but his movements and your free hand searching underneath the pillows behind you as discreetly as you can manage.

“Please.” You beg. “Please…”

“You really shouldn’t have come back.” He says, almost truly sounding remorseful but really he’s only irritated that he has to get his own hands dirty.

He raises his sword and swings it down to cut off your head just as your fingers make purchase around the solid hilt of Steve’s hidden sword.

You raise the heavy thing with a strength you didn’t know you had and block Pierce’s strike with a metallic clang.

The two of you struggle for a few seconds, struggling against each other’s solid grips until finally you push yourself onto your feet and nearly scream as you muster up all the strength you can to push his sword away from you.

It frees you up and knocks him off balance but he’s recovering quickly and you know that you will not survive a battle of swords with this man so you do the only thing you can do. You reach for the pitcher of water beside your bed, chuck it at his head, and run.

You can hear him sputtering and the break of the china as you sweep from the room, moving as fast as your baby heavy body will allow. Your bare feet slap against the floor as you turn the corner and race down the hallway towards the war room, but there are two floors and six hallways between you and you’ll never make it.

Pain bites into you, compelling your feet to stop moving as you turn another corner and cling with one arm to the peach limestone of your father’s hallways. The sword drags along the floor, scraping and making noise as you groan and try to hold yourself together as you’re robbed of your breath once more.

“Bitch!” Pierce screams and his voice rounds the corner behind you.

Forgetting your pain, you push yourself forward, terrified that he will catch you. You can’t let him kill your son.

You move faster, urging your body to keep moving despite the crippling pain that threatens to bring you to your knees.

It isn’t fast enough. As you round another corner and the stairs are in sight, Pierce’s hand wraps around your hair and he pulls you back hard.

You scream, knowing that no one will come because every man is down on the grounds, fighting with the Avengers.

He manages to wrap his hand around the back of your neck, but you twist in his grip and he adjusts it so that he’s almost choking you. Drawing your sword again, you can’t swing it from this angle so you raise the hilt up as fast as you can and hit your mark.

Pierce’s nose gushes blood as he stumbles back. The chain of your necklace is wrapped around hit thumb and it rips as he falls, releasing you from his grip.

The run down the stairs is terrifying, with every step a threat to you and your prince. You nearly fall on the last two but catch yourself along the banister before you’re racing forward once more.

You turn the corner and can hear Pierce barreling along the steps. In one horrible moment, you realize that you cannot outrun him. Slipping into the first door on your right, you rush in and urge your breathing to slow as the quiet of the room makes every noise you make that much louder.

You have never been in this room before and find yourself in a room with towering shelves. Each shelf is filled with books and strange knickknacks. Statues and pieces of artwork carefully organize and lined up.

Although the silence is unbearable, you’re grateful for the winding and maze-like bends and turns of the shelves and bookcases.

As silently as you can, you weave through them, stopping only when you feel you are deep enough and go still so that you can listen.

Your heartbeat is in your ears. Your breathing is still too labored.

Was that the door?

No. You cry in silence as the pain strikes again. In your back, in your lower body, your pelvis, it’s all on fire.

You raise your hand to your mouth and bite down hard. You can feel the skin break as the pain becomes unbearable, but you cannot utter a single sound or it’s all over.

Not my baby. You grieve.

The pain begins to pass, and you realize that it has only been a minute since the last one and you have to get out of here if your child is going to survive.

With all the remaining courage in your heart mustered you turn around to sneak out once more only to feel the sting of a powerful hit on the left side of your face.

The strength of it sends you falling onto your back and you gasp, struggling to catch your breath as your bones protest the fall.

“Why do you have to make this so hard?” Pierce asks angrily.

Looking up you see the sword flying towards your stomach.

You shut your eyes and wrap your arms around it, trying to cover as much of your baby as you can before the blow lands. You hear the terrible squish of blade piercing flesh and sob once because you know you’re dead…only there’s no pain.

You hear a groan, Pierce’s groan, and urge your eyes open only to find him standing over you with a shining silver blade peeking out of the center of his gut.

Blood dribbles from his mouth onto your nightdress as the light in his eyes fades. The sword is withdrawn and with a shuddering breath, you begin to cry.

“Are you alright?!” She asks, all beauty and enviable strength in her form hugging tunic of blue and black. Her long blonde hair is gathered up on her head, swept out of the way so that she can fight without struggle.

She sheathes her sword and kneels down beside you, her hands moving along your arms as you let your head fall back, happier to see Lady Sharon Carter than you ever thought you’d be in your life.

New pain fills your body as it struggles through the shock of what just happened and the urging of your son to come into this world.

You groan and moan and Sharon’s eyes fill with panic as she realizes that you’re about to give birth.

“Oh my-” She gasps.

“WHERE IS SHE?!” Another shout fills the castle halls, moving closer and closer as he no doubt follows the trail of your fearful flight.

“Here!” Sharon rises to her feet and disappears from your sight, but you hear the door open again. “Steve, she’s here! Quick!”

Despite the pain your body is in, your mind begins to fuzz over and as you lay there between two large bookcases, Pierce’s lifeless stare gazing right at you, you begin to feel numb again.

“Y/N!” Steve’s voice is closer. “Where?!”

“Here.” Sharon says, leading him to you.

You know when he has you in his sights because his voice breaks as he speaks.

“No.” He cries. “I’m here. My flower, I’m here.”

He kneels beside you and you eagerly turn to meet his gaze.

He’s got cuts along his neck and forehead.

You frown, reaching for them in clear disapproval of any injury he’s gained. Storm blue eyes filling with tears, he’s careful to touch you but places his hand over yours as you touch him.

“Steve…” You try to smile. “I-I’m so glad you’re here.”

“Stay with me, love.” He whispers, tracing the shape of your arm from wrist to shoulder and back. “Stay awake.”

Your eyes close and Steve screams. “NO!”

#king!steve x reader #medieval au #medieval fantasy au #steve rogers x reader #royalty au #king!steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #avengers x reader #buckynat #marvel au #king!steve x reader fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #arranged marriage au #pseudo princess pt32 #pseudo princess #shreddedparchment

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svtkillua · 3 years

Text

milk and tea > 2

rating: [pg-13 / angst] genre: soulmate au pairing: todoroki shouto x reader warnings: cursing, heartbreak, angst! word count: 9.5k

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1 - chap 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 [final]

The pendant hanging from your neck felt heavier the longer you wore it, like the days of the week that had ticked past added pounds to the object by the hour. You simultaneously adored it and loathed it, constantly catching yourself staring at it and fiddling your fingers around the chain. You loved that it reminded you of him, that the present special from Todoroki somehow made you feel like you yourself were special, like the gift was as close to a boyfriend like gesture you’d ever get. It made you feel adored, like the silver chain was a harsh contrast to the gold on your palm because it was a different reality, one that for a moment didn’t seem like a daydream. You hated it, however, when you stared too long and remembered that a few minutes after he slipped it on your neck he left to be with her. You loathed it for being a constant whisper reminding you that it was just a necklace, just a birthday present, not a declaration of love in the form of jewellery, but a kind gesture between friends. Because that was all you could be to Todoroki as hard as you tried to imagine otherwise.

“Are you listening to me?”

Your head lifted from its downward angle, eyes trailing from the wooden table top to the wide windows of the cafe, the sounds around you feeling too loud for the small space. People were tucked in at all the tables, several offices on the upper floors of the building leading to a packed cafe every lunch rush. You almost always came down to grab coffee and a bagel, used to the hoards of people that blended in with the beige and brown walls, familiar with the scent of roasting coffee beans and the hum of the espresso grinder. You shifted in your seat as you looked back over at your friend, setting down the sandwich you’d been picking at, brushing your hands together in a silent clap in an attempt to brush off the crumbs.

“Sorry, Izuku.” Your head shook side to side as you eyed his pouting features, cracking a smile at the way he huffed out a breath of air, lips puckered like a child who hadn’t gotten their way. Midoriya was perhaps your closest friend next to Todoroki, someone who had never pitied you but rather tried to fill your life with brightness. It was no wonder his soulmate was so enamored with him, you couldn’t blame her, his personality was affectionately child like, so awake and full of life you almost envied him for his eternal positivity. “I sort of zoned out.”

“It’s alright, I was kind of rambling to be honest.” He chuckled with a shrug, the sweater he had on bunching slightly around his neck, the fabric looking too thick for the warm spring temperature. He had on wide, round glasses, his hair a bit more curly than normal from the small amount of humidity in the air, fingers wrapped around a huge plastic cup full of peach tea. “How was your birthday? We missed you at the bar.”

“Okay I guess.” The fidget you made in your seat was involuntary, fingers trailing over the line on your palm out of habit. The light was hitting it just enough to make it seem to glow, the gold glinting in your irises as you flickered a glance between it and Midoriya, shoulders bobbing in a shrug. “Todoroki came over for a bit, we had a pizza.”

“That sounds like a boring birthday celebration.”

“Well I didn’t exactly feel like throwing a wild party, Midoriya.” Your eyes rolled at him, fingers drumming into the table top as you glanced at someone who waved in passing. Part of you felt anxious, wondering where Todoroki was even though you knew he was more than likely working out. He tended to work during his lunch breaks most days, which was what got you in the habit of bringing him coffees and snacks on your way back to the office across the hall.

“Are you okay?” His palm landed on top of your knuckles, the gesture innocent but filling you with a bit of warmth, the genuine flash of concern on his features almost comforting. “I mean, I know you’re probably upset but, you know.”

“I don’t know.” You sighed, shrugging and glancing at his soulmark, the bright blue on the face of his hand in a swirly pattern, almost mimicking that of a flower. The color bloomed against his skin tone, like a spot of blue sky poking out from clouds on a summer day, Midoriya himself the ball of sun beaming through the air. “It’s not like there’s much I can do to change how things are, everything just feels wrong. It feels unfair, like something’s not making sense how it was supposed to. I don’t know how to be okay when I’m supposed to be happy alone. I don’t feel happy alone, I feel lonely.”

He nodded slowly, hand retreating to instead pick at his sweater, cup lifting as his lips wrapped around the straw and he took a gulp, adam’s apple bobbing. His eyes danced around the room as he debated what to say, eyelids fluttering as he blinked when the sun hit him directly in the face. You could almost see his thoughts forming, could picture the words as his messy scrawl put them down in his head, the ink bleeding into his tongue as he set his cup down to speak them into existence.

“Just because you don’t have a matching mark doesn’t mean you have to be alone.” He reasoned, nodding once towards you with a half hearted smile, his gaze flickering over the planes of your face while you tore your focus away. You knew what he was referring to, that several people without soulmates had ended up together, that people with circumstances like yours made their own destiny and chose their own path. It was illegal to not be with your soulmate but if you didn’t have one all bets were off, anyone else who was alone was up for your taking, but somehow that idea didn’t sound right in your head.

Maybe it was because you’d gotten so hung up on Todoroki but you didn’t feel like you were meant for just anyone, didn’t feel like you could make a deep connection with someone even if you could sit and talk to them for hours. Most everyone you heard of who didn’t have a soulmate was content being alone, didn’t feel so desperate for affection as you were, didn’t long for someone to hold them and be beside them all their life. For everyone else like you, it sounded like they were indeed made to be alone and they liked it that way, but you loathed it.

You constantly felt lonely, like the rest of the world had left you fend for yourself, like everyone else was paired off and had forgotten you were still there. It was hard to go outside and see people holding hands, getting close to the person that was meant for them. It stung to hear your friends had met their match, to go to their weddings and smile wide knowing that it would never get to be you standing there in white across from your soulmate. It made your chest burn to picture yourself marrying someone you weren’t made by the universe for, to look at the mark on your hand and know you’d never see it on another person for as long as you lived. It was cruel, like going out most days were torture to the beating muscle in your chest, like being happy was going to be one of the hardest challenges to achieve in your life.

The only thing that made you feel that way was Todoroki, and anymore that happiness came laced with the longing that you’d grown for him in your gut. You’d fallen so in love with Todoroki that it was hard to see past that now, that picturing him was enough to make your pulse quicken and throat constrict. Now the mere idea of watching him marry someone else made your eyes burn, fingers itching to feel him when you pictured someone else touching his beautiful skin you’d grown so attached to. Knowing he was a few floors up in the gym made your lips pull into a faint smile, almost like you could feel him there, could sense the warmth that radiated from his body and imagine it baking your skin.

Todoroki made you feel things others wouldn’t, and in a way perhaps that was why you’d found yourself growing so infatuated with him. That was always how they made soulmates seem in movies, like they would understand you in facets others couldn’t, that they would be the person that just clicked into place, like a missing puzzle piece you’d finally found. You couldn’t understand how you’d fallen so in love with someone who wasn’t meant for you, couldn’t grasp that even though you felt all the things you were supposed to feel for a soulmate, he wasn’t that person. Things had been hard before he met Momo, but afterwards it all felt worse, the love in your chest like a weight that made your feet drag and posture slouch.

“I gotta get back upstairs.” Your head lifted as Midoriya stood, your body following suit as he pulled you into a quick hug, smiling faintly with a nod as he walked off right after. You remained in place for a beat, watching his figure with a sigh, jealous of him, jealous of how easy he tried to always find a bright side in his head. You envied how second nature it was for him to be positive, to find a light in a room full of dark. It’d never been that way for you, never so easy to become a spark that filled everyone with vibrancy, if anything, you’d become the one that always turned the lights off.

After grabbing another coffee and pastry from the counter, your feet carried you up the flights of stairs towards the office, the steps resonating with loud smacks in the half empty staircase. They complimented the sound of your heart beat as it pounded in your ears, matching in rhythm the quicker you ascended them, the heavy door slamming behind you serving like a crescendo to the song being created behind your rib cage. This had slowly become your favorite part of the day, the short walk down the hall towards the double paned glass doors facing your own, admiring the way the sunlight sprouted through them and created hazy shapes on the carpeted floor. It looked so welcoming, like it was the perfect package just waiting for you to unwrap it, like the universe knew someday Todoroki would work there so they created an entry as warm as he was.

You spotted him as soon as you walked inside the studio room, waving at the receptionist as you strolled past her and further into the space, fans running that created a quiet hum that mixed with the clicking of cameras. He was always tucked back into the corner office whenever he was taking a break, the one directly across from the main studio space, the room with the most windows that overlooked the streets below even if he insisted he didn’t like heights. He was hunched slightly over his desk, camera laying idly beside his laptop as he moved his finger over the keyboard, brows furrowed together and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. His hair was pushed back off his forehead though pieces fell forward, like he kept fussing with it, lips parted as he exhaled, the angle of his jaw accentuated by the light streaming into his space from outside. He was oblivious to your approach, completely deaf to the outside world as he poured himself into his paperwork.

And gosh was he stunning.

“Todoroki?”

His head lifted in a flash, lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he blinked rapidly until he focused on you, the curve of his lips spreading until his cheeks bunched upwards, eyes slipping faintly into half moons. The pang of guilt you felt for interrupting him washed away as he took his glasses off and moved to stand while you waved him off, moving closer to set his coffee and lunch down beside his computer. He was staring at you now as incessantly as he’d been doing to his computer, the sound of his foot tapping into the hardwood floors beneath his chair faintly reaching your ear when he sank back into his chair.

“You didn’t have to bring me lunch.”

“I knew you wouldn’t eat if I didn’t.” Your shoulders rose and fell with a faint laugh falling from your lips as you used one hand to push your hair away from your face. You looked his way long enough to catch his gaze before tearing your own away, pretending you didn’t feel the way his focus was making your esophagus feel too tight, like your heart had made a new home there. “Someone’s become quite the workaholic lately, hm?”

“I have not, I just have a lot to do and I’m too tired to continue exercising.” His fingers landed on top of yours as you took a step back to move towards the door, focus shifting back onto his features as he nodded once in your direction. You swallowed hard, trying to force down the rock forming in your throat as he slipped his fingers between your own long enough to give your hand a squeeze with your palms flushed together. It was almost sad how incredible a him barely holding your hand could make you feel, how the smallest amount of affection from Todoroki felt like he’d dropped to his knee and asked you to be his forever. “Thank you though. Stay for a few minutes and keep me company?”

He hardly had to put up an argument even if you should have shaken your head no, fingers slipping from his grasp as you sunk into the chair across from him, the desk serving as a barrier to separate your bodies. His posture relaxed once you were seated, lips wrapping around the opening of his cup as he snapped his eyes shut and took a quick sip, adam’s apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed and dropped the cup back down. The shirt he had on was gray, like the color of a sky after a thunderstorm in the middle of the summer, the colour making him look more drained as he pushed his wheeled chair slightly back from the confines of his desk, dark jeans clinging to his legs.

The simple smile that flashed over his features as the paper bag crinkled open between his fingers made your own cheeks tug upwards, nothing but a pastry and the spare half of your bagel shoved inside but it was enough to make him feel appreciated. He always looked grateful when you dropped him off a coffee or snack, always made a point of thanking you for days after, like you’d single handedly made the world spin for him. It was one of the million things you loved about him, how humble he was, how he considered every act of kindness he received as a gift, one he couldn’t wait to return the first chance he got.

“So what are you working on that’s so interesting?” His head rose when you spoke, eyebrows furrowing together as his lips pursed, jaw moving while he chewed on the sandwich. It made you grin, his cheeks full like a hamsters as he shuffled forward and swiveled his laptop around for you to see. The screen illuminated an article of breaking news covering crimes in the neighborhood, images of black and white mugshots dotted around the paragraphs in order to send a scary effect across to the reader.

“New villains showing up everywhere we least expect.” Your gaze flickered over to him when he spoke, eyes following the way his tongue poked out from between his lips, licking a crumb away from the pink flesh. He nodded his head once towards the screen before you focused back on it, voice thick as he half yawned, arms stretching forward and straining against the fabric of his shirt. “They want to be mysterious, I guess, but they’re not too good at covering their tracks. Quite an easy job for all of us right now.”

Your head bobbed in a nod as he trailed off his speaking, lifting the bagel back to his lips as you leaned back in your seat and turned slightly to look out one of the windows. You had to squint, the sun steaming in just high enough to cover your face in heat, burning your irises in comparison to the pale coloring of the room. It felt peaceful, your eyelids drooping shut and arms folding over your chest, heartbeat at a steady rhythm while you listened to Todoroki’s quiet humming as he ate. For a moment you let yourself pretend you were at home, that the pair of you was married and this was any regular work day evening, content just spending your time together not speaking, because the love you felt in your chest said enough.

It was so easy to fall into with him, the lull of security he provided simply by being there was too comforting to fight off. It’d become so natural to tune out the rest of the world when you were alone with Todoroki, like second nature to forget that the day dreams in your head were complete fiction. Being alone with him made it feel like it could be real, like the way your heart rate spiked when he laughed was normal because it was made for him to hold. His presence raised up the bubbles of hope in your chest until you felt like you were floating, like he’d placed you on top of a cloud and was letting you feel that sense of love you’d never really get, like he was letting you pretend your feelings for him were reciprocated without him even knowing it.

It was like you craved Todoroki as much as you wished you could get away from him, like you wanted to fight the pull he had on you but feared how you would continue to breathe without him there giving you oxygen. He was simultaneously becoming your perfect dream and your nightmare, and slowly the two ideals were mixing into one muddled mess of emotions you were having trouble sorting through. You weren’t sure how to separate your feelings for him from reality anymore, weren’t sure how to continue being in his life without completely destroying your own heart in the process.

A quiet click made your head move, eyes rolling as you groaned loudly and raised your hands to cover your face, Todoroki’s laughter mixing with the sound as he continued snapping away at you with his camera. You could hear his chair scraping against the wood as he stood up, footsteps indicating he was moving closer to you as your legs lifted, knees bent to try and curl yourself into a ball on the chair.

“C’mon, stop covering your face, the lighting looks great right now.”

“Knock it off.”

“Please?”

It felt right, with just the two of you there giggling over something so pointless, like that was how it was supposed to be. It felt like this was what the universe was supposed to have done, that all along it should have made the pair of you for the other, that you should have been the one that got to make him laugh like that every day. It felt like everything, for a moment, was how it was supposed to be, how your heart had decided it was supposed to be from the first moment you saw him in the park. Just you and Todoroki and no one else, nothing there to interrupt you besides the sounds of your own hearts beating.

“Stop!” You laughed at his insistence, peeking out from between your fingers to find him bending closer to you, his cheeks pulled into a wide smile as your eyes connected for the second he lowered his camera slightly. He took another picture, you could tell by the sound of his shutter releasing, another groan falling from your lips, this one laced with laughter as he reached a hand out and started gently tugging at your wrist. The contact felt electric, like he was shooting fireworks off that were spreading up your arm and making your heart skip a few beats out of surprise, his laughter only serving to heighten how light everything felt.

“Todoroki?”

It was laughable how quickly your mood could plummet, the air no longer feeling light and delicate, but rather too thick for you to breathe in, spine locking up as your legs dropped back to the ground with a gentle tap from your shoes meeting the wood. Todoroki’s touch on your wrist vanished, his laughter trailing off as he stood upright and cleared his throat, your eyes burning into his as he stared at you before focusing off at the door. You didn’t want to look at who it was, didn’t want to see her smiling face when Todoroki moved past you to give her a hug, just knowing it was happening right beside you enough to make your fingers dig into your thighs.

“Momo, I didn’t know you were stopping by.” His voice was pleasant but you could tell he was surprised, his posture stiff as he slowly came back into your line of sight with her in tow. You focused on her back at first, on the way her hair was tied up into a tight bun, on the clasp of her necklace that was catching the light as Todoroki pulled a chair over from the corner of the room for her to sit in.

“I wanted to bring you lunch.” Her voice was delicate, like her full volume was someone else’s whisper, her arms folding in her lap as she sat down, Todoroki’s palm on her lower back as she did so enough to make you swallow harshly. She was wearing one of his jackets, you noted, that brown one with the elbow patch you’d sewn on for him when he ripped it during a night out. “I hope I’m not interrupting something.”

“You’re not.”

Her head whipped over to focus on you once you spoke, the smile on your lips feeling as ingenuine as it did uncomfortable, your fingers weaving together as she flashed you an tense grin with her nod. She was holding a paper bag with Todoroki’s name written on it in swirly black ink, a heart scribbled beside the T with a smiley face inside. She passed it off to him, her fingers brushing his own as he nodded in appreciation, setting the bag beside your own crumbled up one, it almost seeming like a metaphor for the two of you, one that made you exhale like a deflating balloon, the false sense of comfort you had now ripped away. Todoroki cleared his throat awkwardly, a silence falling over the room that made you itch to escape it, like the walls were closing in on you the longer you sat there watching him glance between the two of you.

“Well, good.” She pressed her lips into a thin line as she nodded and looked over at Todoroki, your eyes flickering to her palm, seeing her soulmark when she flexed her fingers back and forth mid air, like she was trying to stretch out a muscle. Your own palm suddenly felt like it burned, like your subconscious was reminding you of how badly you wished you had that mark. You would have given anything to be in Momo position, to be the person that Todoroki would marry and have a forever with, to be the person Todoroki loved so strongly it was all consuming and soul changing. “How’s your day been?”

It almost felt like you weren’t there, watching Todoroki turn his screen towards Momo as he started rambling on about his morning, like you were seeing a scene from a movie you didn’t want to be watching. You could almost picture them like that, like this was how they’d be as the years passed, chatting in their kitchen while the rest of the world fell away behind them, their skin growing wrinkles but their palms staying matching and pristine. It stung, like the bubbles of hope you let yourself build up were all being popped one by one, like wasps were stinging your insides just to put you back in your place.

“Todoroki we need you out here for a second?” A girl poking her head into the room looked apologetic as she motioned for Todoroki to follow her, his eyes darting between your own and Momo’s before he was slipping out. You wanted to grab his wrist and drag him back in, wanted to force him to stay and serve as a barrier protecting you from talking to your own worst fear. Momo was everything you wished you were, the person you were most envious of and found yourself loathing when none of this was her fault.

She couldn’t help it the universe had paired her with Todoroki, she couldn’t help it that she was made for him and you weren’t. It wasn’t her fault that you didn’t have a soulmate and yet on the nights you laid alone in bed you found yourself blaming her, because she had gotten the person you craved like a drug. She couldn’t change the fact that you were made to be alone, that you had fallen in love with a man that was made for someone else, someone you could never be. You could blame her all you wanted but none of this was Momo’s fault, and deep in your chest you knew that, you just wanted someone to be mad at. Disliking her had seemed the easiest way of avoiding the demons you liked to ignore, the truth of knowing that you were meant for no one and there was no reasoning behind it too much for you to accept. You wanted a cause, wanted an explanation, even if you’d never truly get one.

And through your jealousy that temporary bandage of an explanation had become her.

“He works too much sometimes, don’t you think?” Her light voice made you lift your head, eyes flickering over her features as she stared at his desk, drawing on the surface with the tip of her finger. She had a half smile on her lips as she shook her head side to side, laughing faintly as she adjusted in her seat, the dark jeans she had on almost matching the ones Todoroki had on, pale pink sneakers poking out beneath the ends of them. “I wake up in the middle of the night sometimes and find him typing away on his laptop.”

You tried to laugh, tried to ignore how your chest stung picturing them in bed together, tried to pretend the mental image didn’t make you want to curl up in a ball and scream until your lungs gave out. She meant well, she was trying to make conversation rather than sit there in silence in her boyfriends office, but you doubted your amusement was even half convincing. You weren’t sure it was possible to be genuine when your insides felt like they were rotting, weren’t sure if you could even be truly happy when your soul had stopped trying to a while ago.

“Yeah, he gets sucked into it sometimes.” Your head bobbed in a half nod as you focused back down on your legs, tracing circles around the red scratch on your knee from when you bumped into your bed frame earlier in the week.

“I’m sure it’s just because he’s so passionate about it, but sometimes it worries me. I’d hate to see him overwork himself.” She trailed off, eyes focused on you judging by the slight shift in voice and the subtle goosebumps rising on the back of your neck. You lifted your head to lock eyes with her, hands overlapping each other in your lap as she pressed her lips into a thin line, like she wasn’t sure what she wanted to say. “Does he mention it to you? That he’s tired or unhappy?”

Todoroki was never really one to share emotions with people, not the ones that he didn’t deem good or important enough. It took you months of persistence before he opened up about any problems he had, any unhappiness that lingered in his heart. He took a lot on himself, held the weight of the world on the tops of his shoulders but still stood tall with a smile on his face. He didn’t like admitting he needed help or comfort, besides with a few people, and somehow you’d become lucky enough to be one of them.

You’d become the friend who he called in the middle of the night to talk about the things that were keeping him up. You’d become the one who heard of all the problems his parents had caused for him, the one who listened to the things he disliked about society and the way the world worked. You were his confidant and his comfort blanket, and in many ways he was yours, the one person who never judged you when the mark on your hand made you want to ball your eyes out. He never pushed away from you when the rest of the world sent you judging looks, never let others assumptions change the way he acted around you.

All he wanted at the end of the day was to be happy, and for the people he cared about to feel the same. You knew how heavily it weighed on him when someone was upset or unhappy, and sometimes he felt the need to try and fix things himself. He always went out of his way to do extra work if it’d help his co workers, always volunteered to be the one paying for other’s lunches so it wasn’t a burden. He always went to his family dinners even if they made him miserable, always put up with his parents nasty remarks and harsh judgements because he thought he had to. He pushed back in little ways, with his career and choice of friends, but sometimes you wondered if it was enough for him.

He had a heart that was surely even more golden than the shimmering line on your palm, one that shined like a lighthouse in the dead of night, but also weighed heavily in his chest. Sometimes you wondered if he was stopping himself from being as happy as he made most everyone else. You questioned, if he could have anything in the entire world, what he would want, what the secret wishes were he had that he’d never uttered out loud.

If you could wish for anything, you would wish for him.

“No, but I don’t think he would admit working too much is a problem anyway.” She nodded, glancing away to focus out the window at your response, the light falling over her features like a spotlight on a beautiful painting. “I should get going, my lunch break is ending soon.”

Her head moved up and down as you stood, eyes not turning towards you as you tugged down on your skirt, making sure it hadn’t ridden up. She was outlining her soulmark, you noticed, the dark lines stretching along her palm almost dark as the night sky, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. You could picture it on Todoroki’s, could see the mark you’d memorized and tried to wish away like a movie playing in your subconscious. They probably traced eachother’s all the time, probably had dreamed their whole lives of meeting the other and lucky for them they had. Lucky for them they had someone who matched them, they got to love the person they wanted to love and didn’t have to hide it under blankets of self loathing.

From the time you were a child it was all you heard about, soulmates, how magical and wonderful it would be when you met them. Everyone talked about it, about how that one person was the only one meant for you, society ensuring that with the laws preventing non-soulmate relationships over a certain age. There were people who didn’t like it, those who found the laws oppressive and out of date, considering most people ended up with their soulmate anyway, but fighting back was pointless. It was all so ingrained into society at this point, the nursery rhymes you’d sing at recess even laced with the messages of your one and only being the one you matched marks with.

They always said the only person you’d truly love would be your soulmate, and maybe that was why ignoring how strongly you felt for Todoroki hurt so much. Because he wasn’t your soulmate, he didn’t match your mark and yet you’d fallen so damn in love with him it seemed impossible for your brain to accept he didn’t belong with you. Even there in his office, staring at the girl with a mark on her palm that was an exact copy of Todoroki’s, it felt wrong, like the burning in your chest was more than just jealousy. You loved him more than all the stars loved the night sky and you couldn’t help the thought that maybe you loved him more than Momo could.

“I like your necklace, by the way.” You paused your movements towards the door when she spoke up, spine tensing as your fingers subconsciously rose to toy with the pendant hanging from your neck. You turned back towards her, her eyes drawn to where your hand was, her lips spread in a half smile that curved downwards as her fingers curled, hand palming into a loose fist on her lap. “Todoroki gave it to you?”

She phrased it like a question but didn’t seem to want an answer, your lips parted slightly as you swallowed down hard. Your hand slipped away from the necklace, landing back at your side as you nodded once nonetheless, her eyes drifting away from the jewelry to instead float back up to your face, smile faded as she blinked a few times. The air felt heavier, more thick, like the unknown thoughts running through her head were clogging up the space, skin feeling too hot like suddenly you had on a hundred layers of clothing.

“I found it one day, when I was doing the laundry. He’d forgotten to take it out of his jacket pocket before he tossed it in the hamper. I actually had thought it was a present for me. ” Her voice had dropped in volume, her head shaking as she exhaled all the oxygen from her lungs and took a quick glance at the necklace again. Your stomach felt like it dropped, like it had been filled with cement and was too heavy to stay put, an irrational sense of guilt crawling up your spine from the look on her face. She looked wounded and confused, wistful but unaware of what she wanted to say, mouth opening and closing twice before she finally spoke. “Is something going on between the two of you?”

“What?” You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, surprised by her rather upfront question, and judging by the way her eyes widened momentarily she must not have meant to be so forward. She cleared her throat, pursing her lips and exhaling heavily as she looked out the windows again, your fingers curling into your palms to close into tight fists to hide how they were shaking.

“Do you like Todoroki?”

“Sorry about that.” Todoroki’s rush back into room cut off anything you would have said, lips parted and pulse pounding in your eardrums as you took a step back towards the door. It felt like you’d been caught red handed doing something you shouldn’t, like you were a little kid with their hands shoved into the cookie jar before dinner. Todoroki’s palm landed on your back as you stumbled slightly into him, his eyebrows raised when he focused down on you, hair falling onto his forehead like he’d just combed his fingers through it. “You okay?”

“I have to go.” The words tumbled out as you stepped away from the warmth of his palm, ignoring his fingers as they tried to grasp onto your wrist, clearly confused as to why you were hurrying out. You could feel Momo staring at the pair of you, could sense Todoroki’s apprehension to just let you run off so clearly bothered. You knew he wouldn’t follow you, not with Momo there, his soulmate, with her perfect packed lunch for him waiting on his table top.

It was like you were in a haze, barely anything registering in your eardrums as you walked back into your office, sitting down to riffle through the papers waiting for you on the desk, eyes moving over the words but not reading them. You couldn’t feel anything besides the pounding in your chest, the force so strong it felt like it might burst through your ribcage and fall onto your keyboard.

You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the situation or the question she’d thrown at you. What would she do if she found out you were in love with her soulmate? Would she keep him away from you and cut off the thing you cared about most. Did she know for a fact you liked Todoroki or was she just insecure? Was it that painfully obvious you were completely in love with him? If she knew you liked Todoroki, than did he know? It felt like the room was spinning and no one else could notice but you, like the walls were caving in and on them was written all of your secrets, ready to swallow you whole.

All the worst case scenarios were flooding into your conscious and making your eyes burn, eyes squeezing shut, the paper fluttering between your fingers as your hands slightly shook from your nerves. It felt like all your emotions had skyrocketed and you didn’t know how to handle it. You simultaneously wanted to call Todoroki to listen to him talk until you calmed down and wanted to run as far away from him as possible, wanted to lock yourself in a room where no one could see you anymore. It was all too much for you to deal with alone but was too heavy of a secret to spill on anyone else.

Who exactly could you tell that you were madly in love with your closest friend and his soulmate had perhaps figured that out?

Who could you tell that your world felt like it was about to fall apart?

Sometimes when you were thinking too much your eyes stopped focusing, the world becoming fuzzy as all your attention poured into daydreams rather than what was right in front of you. It felt like a filter, like you’d applied a blur to the colors coming from your laptop, barely registering the sounds of laughter pouring from the speakers. You could fall into a fog when you were like that, could get so distracted away from the world around you with a few dazed blinks at nothing in particular. It always seemed to happen when you had the most on your mind, the loss of focus, your quiet breathing the background noise to the scenarios running through your mind.

Right now those scenarios were all about Todoroki.

You’d been thinking about what Momo said all afternoon, that alone enough to make a wave of panic ripple through your gut. She’d looked so distant, so unreadable but somehow intimidating, like she had your entire world in her palms and didn’t realize it yet. You questioned how long she’d been thinking about it, if finding the necklace from Todoroki was what spurred her self doubt or if she’d known from the first time she answered his phone for him and found you on the other end. You wondered if it poured out of you so visibly that everyone knew but just hadn’t had the heart to shut you down, that you were a silent laughing stock to the haves, the only have not there seemed to be who didn’t know their place.

Your lungs deflated as your lids fell shut, feet shuffling beneath the blanket covering your legs, the sounds of the stupid action film playing on your laptop coming to a stop when you blindly reached out and smacked at the keyboard. The enveloping silence was both too quiet and too loud, letting your thoughts run rampant until they were so aggressive they felt like blood chilling screams. You didn’t know what to do or where to go now, you didn’t know how to handle a situation that hadn’t even happened yet. There were too many what ifs, too many possibilities for how Momo’s question came about and too many options for how bad the outcome from it would be.

You’d never imagined loving someone would be so messy when you were growing up, always idolizing that passion for another human being as something almost magical, something otherworldly. Everyone made it seem like once you found it nothing else would matter, that the world would stop being so loud until all you could feel was that love in your chest. No one told you how bitter it would be, how acrid the taste in your mouth would be watching the person you loved be with someone else. No one took the time to sit you down and tell you maybe things wouldn’t work out how you wanted, no one set you aside and traced the gold on your palm to warn you maybe you wouldn’t be as lucky as everyone else.

No one told you back then that maybe you’d be alone now.

No one told you that love was only magical when someone was loving you back.

The buzzing beside your thigh made your lids flutter open, the fuzzy light still coming from your computer painting your legs the color of a blue sky. You squinted at your cell phone, blinking rapidly as Todoroki’s name came into focus flashing across the front. He’d texted you a few times since you rushed off so suddenly earlier, always able to tell when something was bothering you even when you wouldn’t admit it. He had a way of knowing things about you before you knew them yourself, always noticing little quirks and habits that he’d point out before you realized you even had them. He knew you better than you did and at times it made it harder to ignore how strongly you felt for him, made it scarier to imagine moving far enough away you wouldn’t see his face everyday.

Part of you was tempted to let it ring, to ignore his voice just a little longer, to try and peel yourself away from the strong hold he had on you without even realizing it. You didn’t know if he’d talked to Momo, if she told him her suspicions and was now just calling to let you down easy, didn’t know if he was calling to tell you he couldn’t be around you anymore because it caused her discomfort. You didn’t know if you could listen to him reject you, didn’t think you could handle how crestfallen you’d be if he quietly whispered that he couldn’t see you again. You didn’t know what you’d do if your worse case scenario was true and Todoroki was about to be ripped away from you, but the stronger part of your will power was desperate to hear his voice ringing in your ear drum, regardless of the words coming from his parted lips.

“Hello?”

“Thank gosh, I was starting to get worried.” His relieved sigh made your lips tug slightly up into a smile on your cheeks, picturing the way his hand was probably tugging through his hair in his bedroom, his legs folded up like a little kid. “You weren’t texting me back all afternoon.”

“Sorry, I was just sort of out of it.” Your lips pressed into a thin line as you leaned back in your bed, palm resting flat on your stomach, the huge t-shirt that was serving as a pajama top bunching around your waist. “I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“It’s alright.” He hummed for a moment, ears picking up on the sound of his bedroom window being pulled shut, before he let out a heavy puff of air, presumably moving to sit back down on his oversized bed. You wondered if he was alone in it, gut churning picturing Momo there beside him, nerves swelling with the unknown of where this conversation was going. “You just rushed out so fast earlier I thought I’d done something. You don’t usually ignore my texts and I guess I just thought the worst.”

His faint chuckle at his own worry made your chest ache, eyes squeezing shut in relief that Momo hadn’t said anything to him, or at least if she hadn’t he didn’t seem to be taking it to heart. You still felt apprehensive, shaken up, like you were on the edge of a cliff and unsure of how good your balance was anymore. It was soothing to hear his voice nonetheless once you got over the initial panic, swallowing hard to get down the rock formed in your esophagus before you spoke.

“You worry too much, Todoroki.”

“Only about you.” The laugh that followed the syllables made your lungs feel empty of oxygen, body rolling onto its side and face nuzzling slightly in the pillow. If you closed your eyes tight enough you could almost imagine it was Todoroki’s chest you were burying yourself against, could almost smell his cologne you’d memorized the scent of long ago. It was like you were intoxicated and the only think you’d ever tasted was him, like was your drug of choice and biggest addiction, one you didn’t want to worry about the consequences from. “I can’t stand when you’re mad at me. “

“I’m hardly ever mad at you.”

“Remember that time I broke your coffee table and you didn’t talk to me for a week?”

It was so easy to fall back into him, so easy to let the conversation flow naturally into your eardrums with him giggling through the phone and rambling everytime you responded. It was simple, loving him, when the rest of the world was quiet. It was easier to love him from afar, through the safety of a phone where you could hang up and close yourself back off once it was over. It was more difficult to hide the stares when you were in front of him, harder to swallow back the praises you wanted to shout at him, to stop yourself from grabbing his hand and never letting go. When you were apart you could pretend everything was fine, you could close your eyes and imagine your soulmarks matched, that he was yours and he was close enough for you to touch. When you were in front of him you were reminded of everything you didn’t have, reminded every time you saw his palm that he already had his someone and it wasn’t you.

He made things feel easy, made the rhythm of you talking feel easy over the time that passed with him speaking to you through the phone. He chipped away at your unease and put a fog over the worries that had been burning into your brain, if only temporarily. His chatter about his afternoon and tangents about things you already knew were enough to make everything feel warmer, more gentle. He knew how to get to the deepest parts of you and brighten them, knew how to pull you from your own thoughts without much effort, in a way that you could only hope you did for him as well.

“I wish I was there right now.” His heavy sigh made you swallow, rolling onto your back as you took a peek at the alarm on your bedside table, reading the blinking red numbers with a muted yawn. You ignored the fluttering in your stomach at the idea, picturing him momentarily there in bed beside you, imagining how incredible he’d look with his hair all fused up and his chest rising and falling like the rhythm of a slow ballad.

“I’m sure Momo will be back soon from her parents, it’s not like you’ll be home alone that much longer.” Her name sounded foreign coming from your tongue but you tried to ignore it, arching your back and moving your legs as you tried to pry the blanket up from underneath you, slipping it over your body soon after. It was soft, like the texture of a those giant teddy bears people got for valentines day, the same color of the sun the sky had been wearing that morning.

“She probably will, but that wasn’t what I meant.”

You paused momentarily as his words floated through the phone, unsure of what to say to that, not positive what exactly he meant. It made your pulse quicken, pounding in your fingertips and eardrums like you’d just run a marathon in the middle of summer. He seemed to be contemplating how to continue, judging from the deep breathe you heard him suck in before he spoke again, voice somehow more gentle than before.

“I wish I was there in your bed, in your apartment, with you.” He paused and cleared his throat slightly, the sound of him flopping onto his pillows melding with the car honking as it drove by down below on the street. “I miss you.”

“You saw me a few hours ago.” You laughed faintly, heart in your throat and pounding so violently it was hard to breathe, something about his tone and choice of words feeling more intimate than you were used to with him. Suddenly the phone didn’t feel like it was giving you much distance from him, felt like it was making you more vulnerable without seeing his face to try and work out what was going on inside his head.

“I don’t care, I miss you.” His voice dropped in volume, your lids falling shut as you took a heavy breathe, one that felt like it wasn’t enough oxygen even with your lungs swelled like close-to-popping balloons. “I miss your laugh and your smile and that look you get when you stare out the window too long and forget what we were talking about. I love when you do that, have I ever mentioned that to you? I love when you get all embarrassed or angry and try to act like you were listening to a single thing I said.”

“What are you doing, Todoroki?”

“I love your soulmark too. I know you hate talking about it and hate seeing it even more but it’s so beautiful. It’s the prettiest shade of gold, it reminds me of what the sun looks like right before it sets.” He ignored the slight wave to your voice as his kept getting softer through his rambles, your hands shaking as you used one to grip the blanket around your waist. It felt like the room was spinning, like your brain couldn’t keep up with the things tumbling past his lips. “Sometimes I wish mine looked like that. Sometimes I wonder how different things would be if mine matched yours.”

You nearly dropped the phone, your lips pressing into a thin line to stop yourself from saying anything. Your eyes burned as you squeezed them shut, trying not to make a sound as you let the words replay in your head, fingers shaking as you gripped the blanket tighter. It was something you’d thought about a lot as well, about how desperately you wished your marks matched, about how different things would be if he was your soulmate. It was almost strange to hear him saying it, like you were daydreaming rather than being awake, like your dream had come a reality but was laced with a nightmare.

“I was so disappointed that day in the park, when I ran into you and I saw your palm when you went to brush off your sweater. Fuck my stomach just sank to my feet, like someone kicked me in the chest and tried to bash my ribcage in.” His bitter laugh sounded thick, too loud for how mutely he was speaking, your teeth clamping down onto your bottom lip in an attempt to stop yourself from letting him know there were stray tears slipping down your temples onto your cotton pillowcase. “I never hated my own soulmark before that, I never wanted so badly for it to go away or be someone else’s instead. ”

“Don’t say things like that.” Your voice shook as you interjected him, sniffling once as you shook your head reverently on the bed, the room feeling too small, the air too hot, heart still like a drumbeat in your eardrums.

“I wanted it to be you so bad.”

You didn’t bother hiding the quiet cry that fell from your lips as you rolled over onto your side and pressed your cheek into the damp pillow, muscles too tight from how hard you were trying to hold yourself together. It felt right and wrong, it sounded like heaven and hell, hearing him tell you how damn much he wanted you to be his one, because it was what you wanted all along. You’d always wanted Todoroki, you’d wanted him since that day in the park and him finding a soulmate hadn’t changed that.

But even if he meant the words past his somewhat tired and rambling state of speaking out loud it didn’t matter. Even if he was as in love with you as you were with him, the two of you could never happen, it was never and would never be allowed. Todoroki had a soulmate, and by law he had to be with her. You would never be allowed to touch his skin or kiss his lips, you’d never get permission to marry him someday or fall in love with the eyes of the world watching you. You could never have Todoroki, even if somehow what he was saying held as much weight as it felt like it did. Even if you both loved eachother, you couldn’t be in love, and that was what crushed you the most.

“Todoroki?” You could faintly make out the sound of Momo’s voice as she called out in the background, cutting off Todoroki as he cleared his throat to say something else, your eyes snapping open, like someone had woken you up from a too deep sleep. Without thinking you pulled the phone from your ear, hitting end and tossing it away to the end of the bed, like it’d been on fire and you’d only now realized.

Everything felt twisted now, more confusing than before, because Todoroki had never said anything like that to you. He’d never brought up that day you two met in the park, never said that he’d felt as stopped in his tracks as you had been. He never told you that he wished his palm looked like yours, never informed you of how angry it made him that you didn’t match, how much he hated his own palm after seeing yours.

Todoroki had a soulmate, he had Momo, and he was supposed to be with her, but the words that had tumbled from his lips felt like ones he’d been stopping himself from saying for a long time. He sounded lost, confused, desperate for someone or something to give him a sign on what he was supposed to do, what all the things he’d bottled up meant. You didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to handle the world piling all of this onto you, onto your already fragile heart and weaning self acceptance. You didn’t know how you were supposed to stop yourself from loving someone when he was making you feel like somewhere in the back of his mind, he loved you back.

Your hands rose, covering the entirety of your face as you cried quietly into them, chest shaking as you choked on the air you tried to get down, everything feeling like too much once again. You were exhausted and wide awake simultaneously, desperate to sleep but scared of what you’d dream. You didn’t know didn’t know what was the right thing to do and what was the wrong, and weren’t sure which path you even wanted to take. You felt like the world had swallowed you whole, like you were thrown down a pit and left to figure out how to pull yourself free.

There in your bedroom with his whisper of how much he’d wished you’d been made for him replaying in your head, you had never felt more confused.

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#todoroki shouto #shouto #todoroki #todoroki x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #mha x reader #milk and tea fic #todoroki fluff #todoroki angst #todoroki smut

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karasuno-chaos · 3 years

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Making the Bed (Bokuto x Reader)

How can someone be so dumb and so sincerely loveable at the same time? Bokuto is an absolute treasure.-Giz

Word Count: 1,512

Fluffvember masterlist

“I still can’t believe you’ve never properly made a bed.”

Your boyfriend shrugs, dumping the sheets in a pile on the bare mattress.

“It never seemed that important.”

“But weren’t you confused when you moved out and had to make your own bed? Or you went to a hotel or slept over at someone’s place and those beds were all neatly put together?”

He shrugs again and gives you that bright, easy grin that you love. You’re always amazed at how unbothered he is by the details of normal life. Things like stoves and raincoats and fitted sheets are unnecessary complications. Bokuto’s simplicity is genius even in its childishness, and you admire it even when it frustrates you.

“I know your mother must have shown you how to make your bed at some point,” you insist as you attempt to detangle the bundle of fabric.

“She probably did and I just forgot.”

“Or you didn’t pay attention in the first place,” you tease, tossing an empty pillowcase at him. He hits it out of the air with a chuckle.

“Probably.”

“Alright then, today you’re going to learn properly. I want your full attention.”

“Oho?” He lifts an eyebrow, golden eyes sparkling with mischief. “Like I could ever look away from you.”

“I need you to focus on the bedding, not me. If I’m going to be too much of a distraction, I’ll convince Akaashi to come teach you instead.”

“You want to invite Akaashi over? Let’s do it. We can have a movie night!”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying.” You sigh exasperatedly, but you should’ve known name-dropping one of his best friends would be a distraction. Your boyfriend adores his friends, and he’s easygoing enough to be friends with almost everyone. You love that about him, but you aren’t going to invite anyone over until the bed is made.

You’ve been living with your boyfriend for a few weeks now, and it has definitely required adjustments from both of you. You’d known about many of his unconventional habits beforehand, but you’re still discovering quirks in his lifestyle that really made you question how he’s survived since moving out of his parents’ house.

When you’d hauled your suitcase into the bedroom a few weeks ago, you’d taken the jumble of sheets on the bed as a sign that Bokuto had intended to wash them before your first night officially living together. A few days later, after he’d innocently asked where that wonderful scrunchy blanket had gone--it had taken you several minutes to figure out he was talking about the fitted sheet--you’d had to reconcile with the fact that Bokuto doesn’t know how to properly make his bed. You are determined to change that.

“Koutarou, I’m serious,” you say, reaching across the mattress to grab his chin and hold his gaze. “I need you to focus and learn this, or else I’ll be sleeping on the couch until you figure it out yourself.”

“Then I’ll just sleep on the couch with you.”

“Not allowed. It’s not big enough for all of your beef as well as me.”

“But babe,” he whines, a pout beginning to form on his face. You know if he sinks into emo mode, you’ll never get the bed made. It’s a good thing you have an instant remedy for his mood swings.

“I know you can do this.” You lean in to give him a kiss, and when you pull away, his full attention is on you. You’ve always loved the cheeky grin he gets when anticipating victory after a challenge.

“Ready to get started?” you ask, releasing his chin to grab the fitted sheet.

“Hang on.” He reaches out for you and draws you back to him with a hand at the back of your neck. He smiles into the kiss, and you can’t stop the giggle that escapes your throat. Your boyfriend is a big goof, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. The kiss is just earnest enough that you’re tempted to brush off the laundry lesson, but then Bokuto pulls away.

“Okay, let’s do this.”

“Right,” you chuckle. “Grab the other end of this sheet.”

“The wonderful scrunchy blanket,” he grins, and you roll your eyes but don’t bother correcting him.

“Let’s start at the top.” You push aside the bare pillows and other sheets. “First we tackle these corners.”

It takes you a bit to find the right side of the fitted sheet. Once you convince Bokuto to stop pretending the sheet is a parachute, you tuck in the top corners.

“Make sure you get it pulled tight,” you advise, “or it’ll pull right off and we’ll have to redo everything.”

“I always wondered how everyone got the bottom cover so flat,” he hums, easily lifting his side of the mattress to snap the corner into place. The ease with which he exerts his strength sparks fondness in you. “I just thought they had fancy fabric shrinkwrap or something.”

You burst into laughter. Bokuto maintains a straight face as he watches you, but amusement glints in his eyes.

“Fabric shrinkwrap,” you repeat. “It’s not a bad idea. Maybe you can make it the next big invention and save millions of people the pain of making the bed.”

“Maybe I should. This already seems like too much work as it is.”

“Well we’re almost done with the hardest part. The third corner is always trickiest because it pulls the whole sheet tight, so it can be hard to get into place. Want to give it a try?”

Once again, he lifts the mattress with ease, and you swear the movement must have shifted the corner you’d covered, because as Bokuto pulls the sheet towards him, it flies off the top corner, undoing half of your work. He drops the mattress and blinks before a cheeky grin spreads across his face.

“What were you saying about making sure it’s pulled tight?”

Your responding sigh turns into a shriek as you’re pulled onto the mattress. Your boyfriend bundles both of you into the fitted sheet with the ease of someone with ample experience doing so.

“You just undid all of our hard work,” you scold as he hugs you to his chest.

“Why bother with all of that when we can just snuggle like this instead?”

You have to admit that there is an appealing coziness in the cocoon he’s made with the fitted sheet. It’s less thick than a sleeping bag, but you’re plenty warm when sharing the little space with your boyfriend. You wouldn’t mind napping like this once in a while, but it feels too confined for a full night’s sleep. Still, it might be worth taking a break and resting for a bit. Bokuto is already settling into his hold around you. You can feel the comforting warmth of his breath against your scalp as he presses his lips to the crown of your head. Absentmindedly, you trace patterns across his back and sigh happily while you listen to his heartbeat.

This is why you didn’t make plans this afternoon. Bokuto almost always gets distracted during the most basic of chores, and half the time, you let yourself get distracted, too.

“Koutarou?”

“Hm?” You feel the warm rumble of his reply in his chest.

“I’d like to get this done before dinner.”

He chuckles and leans back to look at you. The way the sheet is compressing his hair reminds you of his messy bedhead and how much you’ve enjoyed waking up with him every morning over the past few weeks.

“Okay.” He kisses the tip of your nose fondly. “I’ll be good.”

“You always are,” you promise, and you mean it. Even when he’s distracted, he’s the best.

After untangling from each other and the sheet, you get back to work. Bokuto is much more focused, and you tackle the fitted sheet with ease. Progress slows when you get to tucking in the corners of the top sheet at the bottom of the mattress. You have to explain the method and demonstrate a few times, but you’re satisfied that he’s figured it out in the end. You narrowly manage to avoid a pillow fight when the pillowcases come into play, but once you step back to observe the final product, you can’t help but smile.

“Good job,” you hum, wrapping an arm around his waist and patting his chest.

“I had a good teacher.” He kisses your temple.

“Well then, what do you want for dinner?”

Rather than replying, he flops onto the bed, and once again you’re shrieking as he pulls you down with him.

“What are you doing?” you laugh.

“Taking a nap. I’m tired after all of that work.”

“Was it really that bad?” you ask, though you’re snuggling against him. There are still a few hours before dinner, and you figure he’s earned some cuddles for his efforts.

“It was worse than practicing receives for an hour.”

Knowing your boyfriend, he’d love to practice receives all afternoon. You chuckle, relaxing in his embrace.

“Whatever you say, babe.”

#haikyuu!!#hq #bokuto koutarou #bokuto #bokuto x reader #bokuto koutarou x reader #haikyuu!! scenarios #hq scenarios #haikyuu!! x reader #hq x reader #fluff #domestic fluff #fluffvember #I'm a few days late but here we are

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innately-pretentious · 4 years

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Finally, I Found You. (Klaus Hargreeves x Reader)

Request: Hey! I looooved your Klaus headcanons and was wondering if you could write about when him and the reader are reunited in the 60s??? Totally fine if not, have a nice day!

A/N: Awh thank you so much, I hope this is alright dude! I am really tempted to turn this into a series tho... if you want that?? Even if this is really rough and kind of rushed. Kinda angsty? Kinda sad? Very fluffy. Enjoy!

Being spat out of a spinning vortex into a dingy alley was enough to stress anybody out, especially after a rather terrifying and life threatening encounter with your sister initiating the apocalypse. Navigating through the twenty first century was difficult enough, but being catapulted into a completely new decade with nothing but your bag and clothes you were wearing just about topped that.

Letting out a cry as you hit the ground and groaning as you rolled over and tried to get our bearings. Glancing around to see if you could locate any of your siblings whom you were with only a few minutes previously, you stood up and brushed yourself off, you began calling out their names. Sadly with no success, there was no response, you were alone.

You continued pacing along the pavement, trying to come up with a plan of action. Deciding you couldn’t improve your situation much from the alley, you emerged into a busy street and began wandering down the road. Progressing along the street, you could not help but take notice of the architecture and clothing surrounding you. Definitely not similar to the modern aesthetics you were used to. Flagging down an approachable looking woman and kid you asked what year it was, sharing peculiar look she confirmed your suspicions. It was July 24th 1962. Brilliant.

Trying hard not to think the worst of your situation, you mind wandered to Klaus. The two of you had hardly been apart for more than one night over the course of your year long relationship, your stomach dropped at the thought of him being isolated in a random time period, unable to contact anyone, nobody to help. A small part of you wished Ben was with him, but you were completely clueless as to how this whole time travel business worked. You attempted to brush that thought aside for the time being, first you had to find somewhere to stay. Sleeping rough with nothing but the clothes on your back did not sound appealing, luckily you had some spare cash in your bag for a room for a few days, giving you sometime to formulate a plan.

The first night was definitely the hardest. Deciding to find the cheapest hotel you could, you booked a room for the night, collecting the keys and collapsing on the mattress. As soon as you got into the uncomfortable bed you knew sleep would not come tonight, the double bed was not helping either. You spent the majority of the night on your side, laying there and glancing at the opposite side of the mattress, where he should be sleeping. It felt too empty without Klaus hogging the blanket. You couldn’t help the collection of memories the two of you shared popping into your mind. Lazy weekday nights, limbs draped absentmindedly over one another, Klaus’ hand tracing soft patterns into your shoulder as you talked about absolute nonsense for hours. Both dreading when the morning came as you would have to leave his arms. Growing up in Hargreeves’ mansion you would constantly sneak into his room, even before you were together. Your ability to turn invisible was a great help, coming to comfort him if your father pushed him too hard again was almost a nightly occurrence. You loved the way he would relax as soon as he felt you lift up the blanket and settle in next to him, knowing he wouldn’t have be alone.

You smiled at the thought of him, he always had to be close to you. Even in his sleep you caught him reaching for you sleepily or rolling his leg onto you in an attempt to pull you closer. You often wondered if he even knew he was doing it or if it was entirely subconscious. After everything he went through growing up it was no surprise he had clingy tendencies. You wouldn’t change him for anything, if he needed you close, you had no problem obliging him. If it made him feel safe you would do it.

It was at this point the tears started to fall. For someone who had been through so much to then be stuck somewhere, unable to reach you, made your heart ache. Tomorrow you would figure something out, however futile it may be, you were determined to at least try and make a life for yourself here.

3 Months Later:

The three months had not been easy, by any means. It had mainly consisted of you on the road, finding work pretty much wherever would take you. Getting the car you were currently driving was a feat in itself, stealing an automobile had never been on your bucket list. You never liked using your power to steal, however, it was your only mode of transport and occasional place to sleep. You always coaxed Klaus not to just take things, he would be shocked if he could see you now, the look on his face would be priceless! On the bright side, you could have picked a worse car, with five seats, a convertible roof and playable radio, you had risen in worse rides.

More memories surfaced in your mind, ones where you took Klaus out for a drive out of the city during the beginning of his sobriety. This started as an attempt to inject a new lust for life into him, show him there was more to the world than just powder in the back alleys. Soon your little road trip became a weekly occurrence, driving with Klaus and losing track of time, just each other for company. You loved him dearly but you both decided it would be more beneficial if you were the one behind the wheel, not that he cared, he was given full control of the music this way. He insisted on having the windows down and the music loud, staring at you with his pupils slightly dilated, feeling doped up on life rather than various pills. You loved how radiant he looked, you even let him get away with wailing along to the lyrics on the radio, at least for a while…

“Klaus, I love you, but I’m gonna need my eardrums in the future,”

“Yes, I’m aware. Why do you think I’m gracing them with my dulcet tones?”

You couldn’t help but jokingly glare at him. Once again he was never to far away from you, laughing and giving your thigh a squeeze as you watch the city disappear behind you, along with his worries.

Dragging yourself back to the present (well, 1962), you gripped the steering wheel, forcing yourself to focus on the road instead of the bittersweet memories you held. They were the only things you had left of him, and you hoped that wherever he was, he was safe.

You decided to return to the town where it all began, Dallas, Texas. You were in need of some new clothes and a quick bite to eat before you got back on the road, in search for another short-term job to earn some much needed cash. A second-hand shop would probably be the most budget friendly option for clothes, ringing the bell as you opened the door, you began to flick through the various fabrics and patterns of clothing. One of the things you loved about this decade was the flamboyant clothing, he would have thrived here. Gathering quite a large armful of clothes, you decided to go try a few on, just looking through your selection one last time before you committed to the changing room.

You were ripped from your thoughts by a loud thud on the window, resulting in you dropping the bundle of clothes you had accumulated during your browsing. Huffing and turning your attention to the window, ready for some kind of confrontation, although, nothing could be further from your assumption.

Your eyes met with the same hazel ones you had been gazing into for the last year, unmistakable hands with tattoos were firmly placed on the glass. His jaw was slack and his eyes were wide as he gawked through the glass. You began to shake as you drank in the sight of him, your chest tightened and you found it increasingly difficult to breathe. You wanted to run into his arms, but you weren’t sure if your legs would carry you. You couldn’t feel anything except the racing of you heart. Time seemed to still as you just stared at one another.

He was the first to break the gaze, tripping over himself in an attempt to reach the door. He forced the door open so forcefully that the bell nearly fell off, it didn’t stop him though. Running down the shopping aisle, pushing the racks aside as he continued towards you, knocking over a few clothing racks, not slowing down as he slammed into your open arms. The impact of the force sending the two of you tumbling to the ground, both of you gripping onto the other in fear they may disappear again. He could feel you shaking in his hold, overwhelmed with the entire situation, he kept his grip firm around you, letting you know that he is here and you are safe. He doesn’t plan on leaving you.

Finally managing to pull his face from the crook of your neck, you held his face in your hands, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. You weren’t aware you were crying until you felt his calloused hands brush away a stray tear from your cheek.

“It’s really you isn’t it?” You managed to choke out, you must have looked insane to the shopkeeper, both of you smiling and sobbing, curled up on his shop floor.

“Of course it’s me, nobody could recreate this amount of beauty and personality twice,” he joked and cracked a smile. That typical Klaus smile you missed so much. Even in a time like this, supposedly sentimental, he still had to get a wisecrack in.

“You’re such an idiot Klaus, only you could compliment yourself in a time like this,” you said, you weren’t sure if you were crying or laughing at this point, but you knew you were finally happy.

“I’ve had to do it myself for a while since you were absent,” he said, you couldn’t miss the subtle sadness that passed over his features.

“Come on then Y/N”, he groaned as he stood up, offering a hand to help you, “We have a lot of catching up to do.”

You glanced up at him before you accepted his hand, his hair was longer than before and he looked healthier, but he was undeniably still your Klaus. You placed you hand in his and let him drag you up, resting his arm around your waist, slightly tighter than he used to. You allowed your head to rest on his shoulder, re-familiarising yourself with his body. The two of you definitely had a long conversation ahead, you allowed him to drag you to the nearest diner, excited to unburden yourselves after finally finding each other.

#tua #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #tua imagine #tua x reader #tua fanfic #tua fanfiction #the umbrella academy fanfic #the umbrella academy fanfiction #klaus hargreeves fanfiction #klaus hargreeves imagine #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves fanfic #klaus hargreeves headcanon #tua headcanon #the umbrella academy headcanon

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spritewrites · 4 years

Text

inhibitions (or, high five)

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Characters: Vanya & Five

Word Count: 2062

Warnings: drug use, mentions of alcohol abuse

“Ahem.”

Slam. “Ow.”

“What are you doing?” Vanya asked, peering around the cabinet door to where Five was cursing and rubbing his head.

“Nothing.”

Vanya raised her eyebrows. “Doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Yeah, well, it’s nothing, okay?” Five snapped, sticking his sore head back in the cabinet.

Well, that’s bullshit. “You sure?”

Five huffed. “Let me assure you, I am one hundred percent certain that I am doing absolutely nothing of interest to you right now.”

He briefly pulled his head out (carefully avoiding the top) to see Vanya giving him one of her soft smiles. “Rooting around in the back of a cabinet is pretty interesting to me.”

A long, low exhale. He was eyeing her carefully, the same way he did the first day he came home. Like he didn’t know who to trust. “Fine. Do you happen to know where dear old Dad kept the alcohol?”

The crease between Vanya’s eyes deepened. “We have a whole bar, Five.”

“Yes, yes, I know, but we’re… uh, out. Did the old man have any backup storage?”

“I think he got rid of it all when Klaus started drinking.” She put a gentle hand on Five’s shoulder, startling him. Instantly, the hand was back at her side. Right. The touch thing. “Are you okay?”

He sighed, running his small hand through his hair. “Yep. Fine. Great. Just… need to take the edge off.”

Everything went still.

“Five.”

“What,” he snapped. “Are you going to lecture me about the long-term effects of alcohol on my goddamn pre-teen body like everyone else? Because trust me, I’ve calculated exactly the blood alcohol content that –”

“No, I – no. I was just going to say…” She swallowed hard, then met his gaze, her kind eyes and his blazing ones. The corner of her lip tugged upward. “I’ve got something that might help.”

Honestly, Vanya never thought that her birthday gift from Klaus would ever be anything more than a joke. “So you don’t blow up the moon again,” he’d said with a wink, “now that you’re off your pills and everything.” But now, sitting on the floor of her childhood bedroom ripping open a package of laced gummies with her 58-year-old brother, she was so, so glad she had it.

The circles under Five’s eyes had gotten worse over the past few weeks, and even though she knew he’d never say anything, it was clear that putting down the staggering weight of the apocalypse after forty-five years of carrying it was proving difficult for her brother. She saw the way he startled at his reflection, the way his fingers flexed absent-mindedly toward his hip, right where a holster might be, the way he counted the people in the room, the way he would talk too quietly or too loudly, or left out details in stories, as if he couldn’t gauge how much of a given conversation was supposed to happen in his head.

He’d taken to drinking, of course – he’d been drinking since he got back. But now he seemed to rarely be without a glass in his hand. And Vanya saw the way his shoulders relaxed when he took a sip, the way his tapping foot and twitching eyelid settled.

Vanya was used to watching. She knew how to see things.

She’d been saving the candy especially for him, for when he needed it. Tomorrow she’d go to the liquor store for him; she knew better than to recommend he go cold-turkey. Five was smart. With the right support, he’d slow down on his own, when he was ready. That was her job, being the right support.

Therapy would probably be good too.

“I don’t like sweets,” he reminded her, and for a second her heart lurched for the thirteen-year-old boy who was once caught with a half-empty can of cake frosting under his bed.

“These’ll help. Just trust me?” It was a request, an olive branch. Slowly, he nodded.

“Okay.”

“—It wasn’t even the most dangerous situation I’d been in that week! Dolores was furious at me for days, of course, but at least I got some wine out of it,” Five said, tipping his head back to stare at the popcorn ceiling. Vanya was giggling at his story, watching the faint smile dance over her brother’s face at the memory.

“I thought the apocalypse would be, just like… shitty forever.”

Five sighed. “It was. But you know. You can’t be unhappy for 45 years straight, your body doesn’t work that way. There were good times.”

Vanya giggled again. She couldn’t seem to stop doing that. “I can’t do anything straight.”

For a beat, Five studied her, his expression unreadable. Then he broke into a surprisingly bright smile.

“That was a joke.” It wasn’t a question.

Vanya gave her brother a light shove. The way a sister might to a brother. “Of course it was, idiot.”

He shoved her back, smiling wider than Vanya had seen in a long time. “Don’t call me an idiot. Idiot.” The twitch in his eyebrow was gone. Vanya suddenly went quiet, the light feeling in her core spreading throughout her chest at this realization.

“Five?”

“Hm?”

“I love you a lot.”

Five was quiet too, then, but not unusually so; Five was always quiet, when he wasn’t yelling. His eyes traced patterns in the ridges and dips of the ceiling plaster.

“I love you too.” He turned to look at her. “I missed you.”

“I know, Five,” she replied, because she did. “I missed you too.” Because she does. Did. Does.

His face split again, into that same bright, open smile. “You know what I would think about? Out in the apocalypse?”

“What?”

“When we would stay up all night sometimes talking. Remember that? Jesus, we must’ve been… ten? Eleven? And we’d be up for hours… I don’t even remember what we talked about. Math, probably.” Five shrugged. “I had conversations like that with Dolores, after. Or sometimes you.”

“Me?”

He smoothed out the fabric of his shorts. “Yeah, you were there in the apocalypse with me. I had your book, remember? Closest I could get to someone talking to me.”

Vanya tried to meet his eyes, but he was gone somewhere. A gentle hand found his arm. He flinched a little, but didn’t pull away. “I’m here now.”

He nodded, and when he spoke, it sounded strangled somehow. “Thanks.”

A passing truck honked its horn. Vanya thunked her head back on a bedpost, sinking into the floaty feeling that had settled right around her sternum. She got why Klaus did this. It felt like she could say anything, or do anything, and everything would be okay.

Five made a kind of whining noise in the back of his throat. “I want donuts.”

Vanya closed her eyes, smiling. “Shit, donuts sound great right now.”

“The jelly-filled ones from Griddy’s.”

“Yeah, when you get there at like eight p.m. and they’ve just finished the last batch of the day so they’re, like, fresh and shit.”

“Fuck,” Five sighed, pulling the back of his blazer over his head and slouching. “I want donuts.”

Despite herself, Vanya started giggling again. “You look ridiculous.”

“Excuse you,” Five replied, wrinkling his nose. “I am a trained assassin of the Commission, licensed to travel space and time with an assault rifle. I never look ridiculous.”

“You look like a Founding Father.”

The look that Five shot Vanya sent chills running down her spine. But like, in a fun way.

“Take that back.”

“No.”

“You asshole, take it –”

“No, you look like Benjamin goddamn Frank – hey!” Before she could so much as blink, Five had pounced, swatting at her arms when she laughingly brought them up to protect herself. “Go away, you know I’m right!”

Five was grinning too, slipping his fingers past her weak defenses to mess up her hair and poke at her cheeks until she had to hold her stomach in laughter. “Take it back, I said!” he crowed, sounding like he was on the edge of laughter himself. He managed a lucky strike when blunt fingernails skated over the crease of her neck, and she scrunched her shoulder with a squeal.

“No – no, fuck, Five –”

Vanya’s flailing hands struggled to gain any sort of advantage against Five’s skilled assassin reflexes, to no avail. She was horribly ticklish at the best of times, but now the ruthless pokes that were attacking her nerves overwhelmed her, and she curled up into a ball of giggles on the floor.

Through wet lashes she could see Five’s grin as he methodically took her apart, relentlessly tickling all the places he knew were torture – ears down to collarbone, and then jumping down to squeeze at her sides, making her shriek. His skinny teenage fingers were unfortunately perfect for tickling at her ribs and sneaking their way into the crease of her neck.

Vanya was laughing the hardest she’d laughed in a long time, maybe ever. Nobody in recent memory had known her like this, known her well enough to completely eviscerate her the way that Five always, always could. Damn him. This was definitely cheating.

Her laughter hit a fever pitch when Five got a hold of one of her kicking feet. Shit.

“Please, I – fuck! Okay, okay, I take it back, mercy!”

Five stopped, smirking. “Assassins don’t show mercy, except to ticklish sisters.”

A few residual giggles escaped through Vanya’s nose. “Shut up.”

“Me, shut up? Me? Excuse you, you called me a fucking Founding Father –”

“I didn’t say you were a Founding Father, I said you looked –”

“Vanya, I don’t think you understand that I am still holding on to your ankle, and strategically – hey!”

Swiftly, Vanya scooped up his own ankle and held it in her lap, a mischievous smirk on her face. She had completely forgotten about Five’s thing with unanticipated touch, but his eyes were just as bright as hers. “Oh yeah?”

Five’s smirk didn’t waver. “Nice try, I’m not ticklish.”

“Is that so?” She tugged on his leg, tucking it under her arm and hovering her fingertips over his knee. Five nearly choked.

“Wait –”

A squeeze was all it took for Five to collapse into hysterical laughter, squirming and flailing, but more squeezes couldn’t hurt. Vanya was grinning, digging in mercilessly. Served him right for attacking her, he wasn’t not the only one who remembers ticklish spots. It occurred to her that she was maybe being a little cruel, going right for his weakness immediately, but the loud, bright cackles pouring out of her brother’s mouth were worth every kick that he landed.

Five pounded a fist on the floor, mouthing something resembling words, but he couldn’t manage anything coherent through his helpless laughter. All right then, mercy it is. She graciously released his leg, which shot up into his body as he curled in on himself.

“F-fuck you,” he panted.

Vanya chuckled. “Oh come on, surely assassins are familiar with the concept of revenge?”

He said nothing, but his smile, weak from tickles, widened. She wrinkled her brow. “What’s that for?”

“S’nothing. Hic.”

“Are you… are those hiccups?”

“No.” Hic. “…Fuck off.”

Vanya burst into another fit of laughter, earning her a light shove. Five tried to school his face into an angry expression, but he was laughing too.

“I take back everything I said, I didn’t miss you, I don’t love you, you’re an asshole –”

She giggled and shoved him back. “You’re an asshole, but we love you anyway.”

The faux-anger melted away. “I know.”

For a long moment, a comfortable silence fell over the siblings, the kind that they used to fall into around four in the morning when they had both squeezed onto Five’s bed for the night to talk about training and music and math and family.

Five yawned despite himself. “M’fuckin’ sleepy,” he grumbled.

Vanya smiled. “You sound like a kid.”

“I look like one, too,” he said, and at first Vanya thought he might be angry. He usually was when he talked about his body. But then he smiled again. He kept doing that. His eyes were shining. “I’m sorry it took me so long. The calculation took years.”

Vanya shifted to face him. “Talk to me about it.”

Five’s smile grew, and Vanya knew, somewhere in her chest, that they would be okay.

#tickling #tua #umbrella academy #tickle fic #my fics #ticklish!vanya #ticklish!five #five hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #i wrote this for the pun and then it got out of hand

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ambientstars · 4 years

Note

Could I please request thirteenth Doctor & fem!reader where the reader has a soft squishy tummy and she’s kind of insecure about it? 🥺

Gif credit: unknown

Note: not my best work and I haven’t proofread it yet because I’m too tired so apologies for any mistakes. Anyway here’s this. And please please remember that no matter what you look like, you are beautiful and perfect and I love you 🖤

- - -

You took a deep breath as you looked at yourself in the mirror, smoothing down your tight fitting dress. The Doctor had chosen it, explaining that she thought the colour of it would bring out your eyes.

She had been right, of course, your eyes glowing against the soft fabric that shimmered in the spotlights above you, but still you felt uncomfortable and embarrassed.

The dress wasn’t the problem, rather the way it sat over your stomach and highlighting all the places on your body that you disliked greatly.

“Are you ready to go?”

The voice of The Doctor echoed around the room, your muscles softening at the sound. She would always be the best form of relaxation, just her presence was enough to make you breathe like you’d been drowning and were finally allowed up for air.

You made a sound of agreement and turned to face her in her tux, altered to be the same length and style as her usual coat and trousers.

She adjusted her bow tie and smiled brightly, her eyes creasing at the corners. “After you.”

She gestured for you to walk ahead of her out of the room, her smile never faltering. You appreciated her chivalry, but it made you uncomfortable to know she’d be looking at the back of you, taking in your unflattering appearance and most likely making silent judgments.

You mumbled a small thank you and forced your legs to move forward towards the door.

“So, where are we going?”

“You’ll see!” The Doctor rushed past you once you reached the console room, pulling a lever that brought the machine to a halt.

She opened the door and poked her head out to make sure you had landed in the right place and then looked back at you. “Come on, then!”

Her smile was contagious, a smile of your own forcing it’s way into your face. You pushed aside your negative thoughts and followed as The Doctor stepped outside to the mystery location.

You entered a grand hall, it’s wide marble floor filled with people who appeared to be human, but you knew well enough to know that they probably weren’t.

Golden pillars stood tall at each corner of the hall, leading to the ceiling that adorned a beautiful design of swirling patterns that resembled long leaf stems, connecting at the ends to form an endless stream like bunting along the edges, framing the stunningly detailed mural in the centre.

Large chandeliers hung above the heads of the dancing guests, shining brightly in a warm hue, sparkling like diamonds and projecting reflections onto the walls.

“Doctor, this is…” you stopped to think of an appropriate word to sum up just how wonderful this room was. “Incredible.”

“I knew you’d like it.” She beamed beside you, also looking out at the cheerful crowd. “Want to dance?”

You weren’t much of a dancer and in fairness, neither was The Doctor, but she led you over to an open space on the floor and held you close, swaying you both from side to side, her arms around your waist.

It felt nice to be so close to her, to share an intimate moment with her, her gentle eyes locked on yours and her mouth pulled up into a small smile as a sign that she, too, was enjoying the moment.

However, despite the warm tingling the feeling of closeness gave you, you were still very much aware that she could feel your body against hers, her arms and hands touching places on you that sent an unpleasant shiver down your spine.

Negative thoughts swarmed your mind again, the angry voices screaming at you, making their judgements of how disgusting and unappealing you are very clear.

“What’s wrong?”

The Doctor’s voice was calm and soothing against the voices in your head, full of concern and curiosity.

You shook your head and smiled to dismiss any of her worries. “Just a little thirsty.”

Her face changed to a look of content, accepting your answer as the truth. “Let me get you something to drink. You wait right here.”

- -

“I’m getting kind of tired.” You said with a yawn, your back slumped against the marble statue of an almost naked man on the balcony of the grand hall.

You’d been here all evening, dancing with The Doctor for hours, holding each other close and quietly talking about everything and nothing as you swayed.

The night had been wonderful, everything you had ever dreamed of. You were the happiest you’d been for a very long time and you highly doubted it you’d feel this way if the timelord hadn’t been by your side the entire time.

“Want to see our room?”

“Our room?”

She nodded. “I may, or may not, have accidentally destroyed the part of the TARDIS that had our bedrooms in it. And I know how you humans like to spend your lives sleeping so until the ol’ girl rebuilds that part of herself, we have a room here.”

You took a moment to process all the information she had presented you with, wondering when and how she had created said destruction to the poor timeship, and how she had said our room.

“We do not spend our lives sleeping!” You quipped, following her up the winding staircase towards the second floor, your hands tugging the dress up slightly so that you didn’t trip on the length of it under your feet.

She gave you a pointed look over her shoulder, the ghost of a smirk on her lips. “You literally spend a third of your lives asleep. That’s almost 230,000 hours wasted away in favour of lying unconscious when you could be doing other things.”

You huffed through your nose, dropping the subject, knowing you weren’t about to win this fight.

She led the way down long corridors and up even more stairs, the rest of the building decorated just as beautifully as the great hall, it’s walls adorned with portraits of important people and framed with the same swirling patterns as the ceiling.

“Here we are.” The Doctor announced, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

She unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving you to quietly trail in behind. You looked around as you entered, taking note that the design of the building's decor also moved into the bedrooms.

You sat on the edge of the bed, the one bed. “Uh Doctor?”

She looked up from whatever trinket she had found and put it back down on the dresser, giving you her full attention.

“There’s only one bed.”

She frowned, confused. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not a problem,” you quickly corrected, your gaze falling to your lap in embarrassment. “It’s just that we’ll be sleeping together… in the same bed.”

The Doctor laughed lightly, the sound of it relaxing you ever so slightly. “I won’t be sleeping. You have the whole bed to yourself.”

You made a conscious effort to ignore the feeling of disappointment that also came flooding in with understanding and relief. “Right.”

- -

You watched silently from under the covers as The Doctor gazed out the window, watching something or someone move around the garden. She, too, stayed quiet so that you could sleep, or at least attempt to.

You clenched your jaw tightly until it ached, desperately trying to stop your teeth from chattering, the coldness of the room seeping through the layers of fabric until it reached your bones.

“Cold?”

You nodded at The Doctor’s question, although she could see from your shivering that you were. “A bit.”

She made her way over, her movements swift and fluid, her feet moving with purpose. She kicked off her boots at the end of the bed and climbed in under the covers with you, her slender body slipping in right next to yours.

She pulled you closer so that your body was squashed right up against hers and your head was forced to rest on the spot on her chest, just below her shoulder. She snaked an arm around your middle to keep you close and pulled the covers right up to your chin with her free hand.

“Better?”

You swallowed nervously, feeling comforted and overwhelmed at the same time. In truth, it was better - the shivering had already begun to die down and your stiffened muscles relaxed, a contented sigh escaping you. But your proximity to each other made your heart race, your stomach doing somersaults.

Her thumb absentmindedly stroked the skin of your side and panic overcame you, knowing she was feeling a part of you that you despised under it. You quickly moved her hand up towards your shoulder instead, keeping it there with your hand on hers.

“What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, closing your eyes in an effort to brush off the subject and fall asleep, your body now warm enough to fall into unconsciousness.

A finger lifted your chin so that you were forced to look up at her. From this angle, she looked different, but still just as beautiful. “Tell me.”

You looked away again, releasing a nervous breath. “I don’t like being touched there.”

You couldn’t see her face now that you had turned your head back to its original position, but you guessed that her brows were knitted in confusion, the crease between them deepening.

“Why not?”

It wasn’t hard to confide in The Doctor, her kind eyes locked on yours when you whispered a secret, the non judgment in her voice as she gave you advice back, her gentle hands on your arms as a reminder that she was truly there in the moment and listening - all of it made it easy to trust in her and tell her even the hardest of truths, but that didn’t make it any less embarrassing.

You carefully picked up a small piece of lint from the other side of her chest between your fingers as you whispered, focusing your eyes on it so as to keep yourself from tearing up.

“It’s all squishy and gross.”

“Hey,” the timelord beneath you snapped back quickly, her tone displeased. “Your body is not gross!”

“But I-“

“It may be squishy, but you know what else it is?” She sat up, effectively forcing your body to fall beside her as she turned to face you. “Beautiful. This body carries and protects you everyday. It keeps your heart and your mind safe, it protects the organs you need to live. It grows and changes, and breaks, and thrives! The human body is amazing, truly, and a little bit of extra soft and warm padding shouldn’t get in the way of you loving the body you have.”

Tears brimmed your eyes, your bottom lip wobbling despite being sucked into your mouth. You should’ve known that The Doctor would view your body, along with everyone else’s, as a magnificent organic machine that against all odds, grew and repaired itself, and battled against the elements. To her, the human body was a glorious physical representation of just how far evolution had come and she admired it deeply.

To her, beauty wasn’t defined by size or shape, by colour or style. To her, beauty was smiles of happiness and tears of sadness, resilience and natural radiance, creative minds and beating hearts.

She placed her hands on either side of your waist, holding gently so as not to frighten you. “Who told you that your body is gross?”

You fought back a cringe and drew in a shaky breath, avoiding The Doctor’s narrowed eyes. “Well, no one in particular.”

She sighed like her heart was broken and in response your chest tightened with guilt. “Look at me.”

You did as asked, forcing your eyes to meet hers. She carried an expression on her face that you hadn’t seen before, something between disbelief and worry, whatever she was feeling, it wasn’t positive.

“This wonderfully unique body you have,” she spoke quietly, putting all of her truth and conviction behind her words, desperate for you to really, truly hear them. “Is perfect.”

A tear escaped as you blinked, quickly falling down your cheek before you could raise your hand to wipe it away. The Doctor’s hand came to rest on the now damp cheek and swiped the following tear away with her thumb, her eyes never leaving yours.

You opened your mouth to speak, but your tightened throat refused to release a sound. So instead you pulled her back down to you, holding her flush against you in a bone crushing hug she had not expected.

Silently you sobbed as she held you close, your warmth spreading to your cheeks and circling around the pit of your stomach.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever truly come to love the body you were in, but The Doctor’s opinion was the only one that mattered and that was enough for you. Maybe she’d have to remind you of your beauty every day and you had no doubt that she would, but tonight was a start and already you felt better with your skin pressed against hers.

#13th doctor #thirteeth doctor #doctor who imagine #jodie Whittaker #doctor x reader #13 x reader #thirteenth doctor x reader #thirteen x reader

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harebrainedscheme · 3 years

Text

Las Mismas Estrellas/The Same Stars

A03 Link Part 2 Part 3

Whatever happened to Dr. Thaddeus Waddlemeyer?

Drake and Gosalyn venture into an alternate universe to bring her grandpa home but what they find has them questioning if they should.

Teenagers were hard.

And not just because of the surplus of sarcasm and smart-mouthed remarks that could puncture Drake’s over-inflated ego in seconds.

And not just because, at the age of thirteen, Gosalyn still possessed a childlike giddiness she tried to mask under a nonchalant self assuredness. Both qualities, Drake recognized as precious and potentially delicate.

It wasn’t even her stubborn, hard headed, immovable determination that so often butted against his own.

The hardest part was the constant tightrope walk that came with trying to find the balance between giving her support- which she claimed she didn’t need- and space - which she seemed to have a preference for.

He knew, as she had told him, he was not her family. Until a few months ago, they had been strangers. And Gosalyn was determined to prove that she didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She was fiercely independent, batting away offers of help, even with the most mundane things like preparing breakfast.

But she hadn’t seen herself the day the Ramrod exploded.

Bathed in blood red light, tears filling her eyes. There was a flash, a boom, and then quiet devastation.

In the center of the rubble, Drake saw a child, tiny and lost, fall to her knees and curl into herself sobbing.

He went to her.

His muscles and most-likely-bruised spine protested the movement, but even before her knees hit the ground he was already moving.

He dropped to a kneel beside her and scooped her into his arms as she cried.

“I...I had to, the rift - it- it was going to - it would have…”

“I know. I know,” he hushed, “You were so brave.”

“He’s gone. He’s really gone. I’m alone.”

Getting caught in the ramrod explosion hurt less than hearing that.

Before he could think better of it, the words were slipping out.

“I’m here.”

It didn’t stifle her sobs. He didn’t expect it to. But her hand clutched tightly to his arm and he matched the fierceness of her grip.

In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the right thing to say. What did it matter that Drake was there? She was grieving. It was her grandpa she wanted. It was her grandpa who should have been there.

She didn’t speak again and neither did he but he held her as sobs slowed to sniffles and then to silence.

Eventually, she pulled away from him, picked herself up with trembling knees, lifted her head, and squared her shoulders into a tight, wavering line.

It was enough to break his heart.

She tried so hard to be strong, to carry the unfair burden thrust upon her, but amidst the clearing smoke and smoldering, blackened bits of machinery strewn across the wrecked lab, she didn’t even realize how small she looked.

All the books said kids experiencing loss needed a sense of security and stability.

So, Drake and Launchpad had welded a few PVC pipes together, draped them with curtains, and converted one of the more spacious corners of the tower into a make-shift bedroom. It wasn’t much but it had a bed with dark green sheets Gosalyn had picked out herself, a dresser, and a desk. And it was hers.

Drake had helped her decorate the lofty walls of her room with glow-in-the-dark stars, as she dictated their careful placement so they formed ‘an accurate representation of the constellations.’

“You’re doing it wrong.”

Drake raised an unamused eyebrow. “I’m following the sketch you gave me.”

“Apparently not, because you’re doing it wrong.” She pointed to the highest point on the wall where she had already placed a cluster of stars. “That’s the Ursa Minor. It marks the celestial pole, all the other constellations have to be aligned relative to the Ursa Minor.”

She dropped her point to the space of the wall Drake was working on. “Your Ursa Major is sideways, line it up with the Ursa Minor.”

“Ursa Major? I thought I was doing…” he glanced at the paper she had given him, “ ...Piscis Austrinus,” he read.

Goslayn gaped, “Pis-You’re not even in the right hemisphere for piscis austrinus!”

Without another word, she scrambled over to the wall and began drawing dots along the wall with a large black marker.

“Here, just put them on the mark.”

Drake made an undignified noise, “Did you just draw on my wall?”

Gosalyn shrugged. “We’re going to cover them up anyway.”

Drake glowered but began placing stars on the pattern all the same.

“You were able to draw that out from memory?”

“Yeah. My grandpa taught me how to chart the night sky.”

She pointed back to the Ursa Minor. “He said as long as I knew how to find the north star I’d never be lost.”

Her hand lowered.

Drake watched as she did. She didn’t speak of her grandpa too often.

A mistiness clouded her eyes, but she blinked it back, and in a second it was gone.

“I’ll do the Storkules constellation next,” she said, turning away.

“Gosalyn, do you want to talk-”

“No.”

He wasn’t her family. He knew that.

But he couldn’t help the ache he felt deep in his chest each time he caught her in a moment of vulnerability, only for her immediately, reactively, retreat behind her defensive walls.

Not that he could blame her. She had been betrayed by her grandfather’s best friend. Drake didn’t know the extent of their relationship, but in the photograph he saw, the three had looked close, trusting. And no one, not the police, not child services, was willing to help her, to even listen when she said her grandpa was trapped in an alternate dimension.

Not even Drake, not at first, not if it hadn’t been for LP. As worried as he was of overstepping his bounds and pushing her farther away, he was even more terrified of letting this kid down again and reinforcing her belief that if she was going to find her grandpa, she would have to do it on her own.

He couldn’t stand the thought of Gosalyn, brilliant, wonderful, perseverant and Gosalyn, going through life without believing she had someone in her corner, without knowing that she had someone who cared about her.

Because he did. He really did.

She had come into his life as a whirlwind. Running uninvited through what was supposed to be his top-secret base, leaving handprints on the ratcatcher, his display cases, and all the high tech equipment that was meant to make him Darkwing Duck. She had upended his entire world, disrupted his succinctly organized tower with unlaced sneakers left on the stairs and disassembled parts of a crossbow strewn across the coffee table.

And every time he came across another one of her messes left behind, everytime she came down for breakfast still half asleep with pillow tussed hair, everytime she flawlessly executed a move he had taught her during their crime fighting nights, Drake felt a deep ache in his heart, a growing fondness that seemed to push at the seams until it was about to burst. Like grass growing in the cracks of concrete, Gosalyn was filling all the little spaces Drake hadn’t realized were empty.

But he knew he wasn’t her family. He knew the failure of the adults in her life, himself included, had set her on a path of believing that she was alone in the world.

And he couldn’t let her continue down that road. As much as Gosalyn believed that she was tough enough, self-reliant enough to navigate the world alone, Drake needed her to know that she didn’t have to.

He knew that path. He knew the hurt ingrained into kids who were forced to grow up too fast, too soon.

The last words his mother had ever said to him were ‘you’re no daughter of mine.’ Funny. They could finally agree on something.

The earliest attempts were painfully awkward, standing in her makeshift doorway, stammering and blustering his way through a greeting, just to ask if she would like to join him and Launchpad for a movie night, or video games, or a trip to the boardwalk.

And she would smirk and say something sarcastic but endearing. And Drake would think now would be a good moment to put a hand on her shoulder or pat her head, but would that be pushing it too far? Was she comfortable with physical touch? She never seemed to mind when Launchpad hugged her. Actually, she always gave a begrudging smile whenever Launchpad lifted her off the floor to spin her in the air or sit her on his shoulders. Launchpad was always so great with her. But what about him? Why did he always have to overthink everything? Would patting her head come off as condescending? Would the fact he was so hesitant with casual affection where Launchpad was so natural make her think that he didn’t like her?

And just as he started to spiral, it would be her who lightly touched his wrist to ask if he was okay, and that tiny touch was enough to ground him back into the moment.

But it was during the late night talks, under the cover of dark and quiet, when she slowly began to lower her walls.

If Drake couldn’t sleep,which was often, he’d get up from bed to make himself chamomile tea. At first it was his movement and the low light in the kitchen that would draw Gosalyn from her room, just as sleepless as him. And she would turn down his offer for tea but would always take him up on his offer for a glass of warm milk and cookies if they had them

But after a while, when he came down to the kitchen he would find she was already there. And he would ask her what was on her mind, and they would talk, sometimes for hours, sometimes until the world outside the windows began to darkly dawn.

The most recent conversation had been after he found her in the kitchen, only an hour before dawn.

“Jeez kid, did you sleep at all?”

She hadn’t. The last conversation she had with Fenton the night before had kept her up.

“The DNA sample I gave them didn’t even help. He still exists with the exact same genetic coding in a billion other universes. We’re no closer to finding him.”

“Hey, that’s not true, Fenton said he and Dr. Gearloose think they're getting close to creating a Ramrod that won't tear the fabric of reality. That's progress.”

“Yeah... but I'm more worried about…the other thing.”

His heart sank.

The other thing, being Fenton's disclosure that after Mr. McDuck and his nephews were returned to their reality, Mr. McDuck had exhibited odd symptoms. The boys were fine, thank goodness. They were young and pliable and had only been in a different dimension for hours. Mr. McDuck on the other hand…well no one was calling him a young duck, and he had been in the other dimension for days on end.

It hadn't been noticeable at first. Little things, like forgetting the word he was looking for, or forgetting to turn a light off when he left a room, forgivable things, even for a parsimonious penny pincher.

But the old man’s nephews had reported other things as well, forgetting where he was or how he had gotten there, becoming suddenly confused or agitated and bursting into rants about the Marinara Trench. Looking at his eldest nephew and asking how long he had been back from the Navy.

The symptoms eventually dispersed after a few weeks and Scrooge McDuck was back to being the toughest, smartest, and sharpest, or whatever he liked to call himself. Egotistical much?

But after thorough, extensive evaluation from his top scientists, Gyro and Fenton concluded that he had been getting his memories and conscious awareness mixed up between the realities.

He was fine now. He would be fine. But Fenton and Gyro worried that if he had been stuck longer, the effects might have been permanent.

Gosalyn's grandpa had been missing for 6 months.

For someone who didn’t allow herself to be vulnerable, she had expressive eyes. And at that moment, he could see her fear swimming just below the surface.

"Hey, it's going to be okay. I made you a promise. We're going to find him. "

She looked at him, nodded, and gave him her best half smile.

This kid was braver than he could ever hope to be.

The call came on a Tuesday afternoon 6 months after the Ramrod exploded.

He woke up in a confused tangle of bedsheets as he blindly pawed for his phone, buried somewhere within the folds of his comforter.

The trill of the original Darkwing Duck theme was muffled, but when he finally found the source, he clicked off the tune with a touch of his thumb and snapped, “Buh-wuh? What! Who is this!? Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Darkwing?” came a timid albeit, melodious voice on the other side of the line, “Uh, this is Fenton Crackshell Cabrera, it’s 1:30…1:30 P.M...Were you asleep?”

UmmffNo! Of course not,” he slurred, “I am the dutiful defender...before dawn, beyond dusk...what do you want, buddy?”

“Ah right,” the voice on the other line chirped.

Drake’s head lolled lazily as he aimed to rest his forehead on his palm but missed.

“I know you said I should only call through WANDA but I kept going to voicemail and this is kind of important…

Drake still hadn’t opened his eyes and his head hung heavy. But what he heard next jerked him awake.

“We found him.”

He and Gosalyn were on the Ratcatcher and out the tower in less than two minutes.

“It was Gosalyn’s DNA idea, actually” Fenton explained as he ushered Gosalyn and Drake to the Ramrod’s control center.

“It got me thinking, if Dr. Waddlemeyer’s genetic signature is popping up in billions of dimensions, what if there was a way to identify a dimension by its own unique molecular signature. Or a DNA for dimensions.”

“When Doctor Intern’s theory proved correct,” Dr. Gearloose cut in aridly, “it was simply a matter of tracking down the dimension that had traces of this reality’s unique molecular signature.”

“And by, traces of this reality’s DNA in another dimension, you mean-” Drake began.

“My grandpa.” Gosalyn finished.

“We couldn’t pinpoint his exact location but we were able to narrow it down to a one-mile radius. We’re going to drop you off at a rendezvous point within that radius. Remember, your subatomic signature isn’t compatible with that of the alternate reality you’re entering so you can't stay for extended periods of time.”

“These,” Dr. Gearloos said, cuffing a bulky metal bracelet on their wrist, “are your timers. We can’t be certain that time works the same in this dimension as it does in ours. So, your timers are programmed to adjust the timestream of the dimension you’re in. After three hours, the window will reopen at the rendezvous point.”

“What if we don’t find him during that time?” Gosalyn chided

“Then we’ll try again, after you’ve returned to this reality and your brain has had time to recover.”

Drake glanced down at the child by his side. Part of his instincts were screaming at him to insist she stay behind. But another, stronger part to him knew, this was more her journey than it was his.

So instead he asked, “You ready, kid?”

She grinned. “Let’s get dangerous.”

Fenton and Dr. Gearloose retreated behind the Ramrod’s command center. The two nodded at him and Gosalyn before flipping dials and typing commands into the machine’s keyboard. The Ramrod hummed and glowed with life.

A brilliant white light, cut through the space in front of them before widening into the shape of a doorway. The rift crackled with energy, warmth seeped from the doorway, filling the room.

Without overthinking it, Drake reached down and grabbed Gosalyn’s hand before stepping through to the other side.

As far as infinite worlds and endless possible realities go, this one seemed pretty tame.

Drake and Gosalyn stepped out of the alley they had arrived in after Gosalyn had insisted Drake stash his Darkwing suit in favor of civilian clothes as to ‘not draw attention’ to themselves when they were on a limited schedule.

The world they had landed in was seemingly identical to the one they had left.

In fact, it looked suspiciously like Cape Suzette.

Gosalyn and Drake blinked against the late afternoon sun. A familiar sky was painted deep orange with streaks of purple gathering above the clouds. Sparkling sea green water lapped quietly against wooden docks. Aquatic planes tethered to piers sat against the bobbing water.

“Where do we start?” Drake murmured.

“There.” Gosalyn answered with surprising conviction, “That house. The one with the red door.”

Drake’s sight followed the direction she was pointing. In the distance a small, unremarkable bungalow sat nestled between the green rolling hillside and the shoreline. There was nothing particularly extraordinary about the house. It was modest, with a small unkempt front yard, a fruit tree growing at its side, and a large porch. The most notable feature, as Gosalyn had pointed out, was the bright red door.

“How do you know to start there?”

“I recognize that house. I think...I think I saw it once, in a photograph.”

Drake was about to question further but she was already off, making a beeline for the house.

She bolted across the porch almost as instantly as she came upon it. By the time Drake caught up, she had already rapped a knuckled against the wooden door a bit harder and longer than could be considered polite.

She fidgeted in place as she waited for a response. It was clear by the way she eyed the windows that she was strongly considering attempting to peek through the curtains. But her plotting was interrupted when they heard footsteps approach the opposite side of the door.

The doorknob rattled.

“Yes? Can I help you?” A woman asked as she opened the door.

Gosalyn nearly tripped over herself backpedaling.

Drake didn’t understand her uncharacteristic reaction or how she could be caught off guard when she was ready to run in headfirst only seconds earlier.

Even so, Drake stepped forward, instinctively inserting himself between Gosalyn and the stranger. Nothing about the way she carried herself, indicated she might be a threat. Her eyes were large and wide, expressing a mild perplexity. A mess of black curls swept up by a multi-colored bandana crowned her head. She wore paint-splattered overalls and was seemingly unaware of the bright blue smudge across her cheek.

“Sorry to disturb you ma’am. We’re looking for Dr. Thaddeus Waddlemeyer. Would he happen to be at this location?”

A look of confusion crossed the woman’s face. Her large, clear eyes darted between Drake and Gosalyn, who had regathered herself and stood at Drake’s side, if not slightly behind him.

“I-I don’t understand,” she said. Drake only then noticed the accent lilting her voice. “You are looking for my father-in-law? Are you students of his?”

Drake’s mind had scattered as he fished for an answer. A collection of stammers was already tangling on his tongue, as his brain reeled trying to process ‘father-in-law’ when Gosalyn spoke up behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s right. Students. I’m one of his students from the after-school STEM program for at-risk youths he volunteers at. He helped me with my science project last year.”

The woman smiled. “How nice! I always hoped to meet some of his students,” but her smile dimmed almost as quickly as it appeared.

“You are very kind to visit but…” she hesitated, “ I’m afraid he hasn’t been the same since the accident.”

“Accident?” Drake repeated.

Her eyes flicked back to him. Drake very nearly flinched. There was nothing malevolent about the way her eyes searched his, but there was a sharpness to them, like cut glass.

“Oh- you mean- you don’t know? Oh, maybe you should come inside.” And with that, she pulled the door open and beckoned for Drake and Gosalyn to follow.

The interior of the woman’s home was as small as the outside would have suggested, but homely. The interior was bathed in a comforting yellow light. Where a floor to ceiling bookcase didn’t fill a wall, it was adorned in photo frames or richly painted, with vibrant images of vines and brightly colored flowers or entangling patterns. Unopened paint cans were pushed against a wall, paint smeared smocks, were draped over empty chairs. Drake counted six houseplants in the living room alone.

One of the framed photos hanging on the wall contained an image of the woman and a man holding each other by the waist. Behind them the small bungalow with a red door filled the background. To their right was a real estate sign with a large SOLD sticker slapped across it.

Gosalyn and Drake were seated beside each other on the sofa, when the woman returned from the kitchen carrying a tea tray. She pushed aside some loose papers, stray paintbrushes, and a few assorted earrings missing their match, before setting it down.

It was taking all of his self control for Drake not to swivel his head from their host and the young girl that sat beside him. But he could see it, even without looking at Gosalyn.

The same large, clear eyes, the same thick, textured hair, the same full apples in her cheeks.

“Thank you, Ms. …”

A flicker of sadness appeared in her eyes, before disappearing with a wave of her hand.

“I am called Liliana,” she said. Drake noticed a glint of gold on her left hand as she tucked a few stray hairs below her bandana.

“And you?”

“Drake Mallard,” Drake said, extending his hand. Liliana took it politely.

“Gosalyn.” Gosalyn kept her arms folded at her chest.

“Gosalyn,” Liliana repeated with a smile. “That’s a good name. I’m surprised you didn’t hear of the accident sooner, it was all over the local channels. But I suppose the earliest reports wouldn’t have used their names.”

“Ah, right.” Drake responded. “Can you tell us what happened to Dr. Waddlemeyer.”

She nodded. “Almost a year ago, my fiance and his father, Dr. Thaddeaus Waddlemeyer as you know him, travelled to Bullivia. My fiance was a cargo pilot you see, it’s a common profession in this area. One day, he got a call to transport a shipment to Bullivia. I usually travel with him if I’m not working. But that weekend, I was already commissioned to paint the walls of a new restaurant opening in St. Canard.

Liliana swirled her tea as she spoke.

“So Thaddeus went instead. He had an old colleague conducting research in the same city the delivery was to. He thought he could stop in for a quick visit while he was there.”

Liliana's voice thickened and her volume fell. “But they never made it. There was a freak storm and...the plane went down. It was never recovered. We assumed them dead. But then, months later, a miracle happened. Thaddeus showed up on my doorstep. He was disoriented, confused. He had no memory of what had happened. The doctors called it sudden-onset dementia. We have no idea how it’s even possible he survived, much less how he made it back. It was a miracle."

She had been staring at the rim of her teacup as she spoke but suddenly looked up towards Drake and Gosalyn.

“I want you to understand, he’s still the same man he’s always been but the illness, it affects his memory, his cognitive function. When he first returned, he couldn’t remember the year. That’s common in dementia patients but usually they think they are in a year from their past, not over a decade in the future. He seemed to think things that were planned for the future had already happened. He insisted that Berto and I had already been married.

“He’s a bit better now, he’s calmer, he’s adjusted to living with me but...the dementia..the dementia is getting worse. He forgets things that have just happened, sometimes he forgets where he is, or how to use everyday objects. And...and...most days he forgets that the crash ever happened. He wakes up every day wondering where Berto is. The doctors say there’s no fighting the illness. He could have months left, could be years. The best we could do is make him comfortable during the time he has left.”

“Can I see him?”

Liliana blinked and shifted her gaze towards Gosalyn. Drake was surprised to see Gosalyn drop her eyes in response.

“Of course. But, I want you to understand, it might be hard to see how the illness has affected him. He...he’s not as verbal these days. You can still talk to him of course, but it is not always easy to know if he is listening. Sometimes he will respond, but other times...it can be hard to adjust to.”

“I want to see him.” Gosalyn asserted. She was leaning forward, knuckles gripping the edge of the couch.

“Gosalyn,” Drake dropped the word lightly, not as a reprimand but an anchor to keep her from being swept away by whatever rising tumult she must be feeling. He meant it as an assurance. They had made it this far. They weren’t turning back now.

She glanced towards him. She looked at him for only a moment but he caught a conflicted, indeterminable look.

“Please,” she added.

“Of course dear.” Liliana’s smile was gentle and her eyes kind. “I think he is out painting on the back porch. The doctor said hand-eye coordination activities were good for him. Please, follow me.”

She stood, and Drake and Gosalyn followed her as she led them to the back of the house.

Drake had always thought that when he finally met Dr. Waddlemeyer, it would be a happier occasion. He had only glanced at a photograph of him once, but from the way Gosalyn talked about him, Drake had pictured a giant of a man. An ingenious scholar, with a puckish sense of humour, driven by a deep, innate love for mankind and a desire to create a better world.

The silent man before him, sitting unmoving on his chair, a blank easel and untouched paints in front of him, looked like a ghost of the man he had been imagining. He stared out over the porch railing. There was nothing in view except for the empty rolling hillside. There was a quiet serenity to him, like a man who was dreaming while awake.

Liliana crossed over to where he sat and dropped a light kiss on the top of his head.

“Papá, you have visitors.”

“Liliana!” the man exclaimed and reached for her arm, “My daughter-in-law-to-be! How are you?”

“I’m fine Papá. You have someone here who wants to see you.”

“Liliana, is my son home yet?”

Liliana’s shoulders dropped.

“No,” she said softly, “he is not home.”

“Oh.”

“Papá,”

“Hmm?”

“You have visitors.”

“Oh! I do?”

Drake’s heart turned to lead as Gosalyn slowly edged forward.

She had almost raced down the hallway but now that Dr. Waddlemeyer was a mere 10 feet away, she moved with the hesitancy of someone testing the strength of a frozen lake before stepping with their full weight.

Drake’s pulse quickened painfully as he watched her go. This was it. The moment he had done everything to get her to.

“Gr- Dr. Waddlemeyer?” her voice was quiet. Uncharacteristically quiet. “It’s me, Gosalyn.”

The old man tilted his head.

“Who are you?”

Drake felt his heart drop.

Dr. Waddlemeyer hadn’t asked unkindly but as if he was expecting her to continue, as if he knew that he was missing valuable information.

Gosalyn’s voice was tight when she asked without looking at Drake or Liliana, “Can I have some privacy, please?”

“Of course.”

Cotton filled the space where his tongue had been, “We’ll be right inside,” he managed to get out.

Gosalyn made no movement as Drake and Liliana returned through the doorway from which they had come. Drake didn’t tear his eyes away from the lone figure standing rigid and small until he was behind the door.

A minute later Drake was rigorously scrubbing teacups in Liliana’s sink, fully indulging in any activity that would busy his hands and even partially distract his mind.

He didn’t hear her when she came up behind him and nearly jumped when she placed a hand on his shoulder as said, “I should start preparing dinner now, will you and Gosalyn be joining us?”

“Ah-oh-uh-thank-thank you for the offer but we really can’t stay long. But-but-please, allow me to help, I’m actually quite handy in the kitchen.”

Liliana’s eyes glanced at the mountain of soap suds threatening to spill over the sink’s edge and the three lonely teacups inside.

A smirk pulled at the corner of her beak. “If you are as passionate about seasoning as you are about washing, you’ll fit right in. Have you ever made sancocho de gallina before?

Drake shook his head.

“Well, you’re welcome in advance. You can start by peeling those potatoes on that counter.”

The two worked back to back in the small kitchen. Drake focused on making the cleanest, thinnest peels on his potato and not on what conversation might be happening on the back porch, or the potential emotional devastation Gosalyn might be going through at this very moment.

“That Gosalyn,” Liliana’s voice cut into his thoughts, “she has a bright inner light. You must be very proud of your daughter.”

The blade of the knife narrowly missed his finger tip.

“Oh she’s not-i’m not her- i’m-i’m just- I’m her guardian,” he stammered at too high a volume.

Liliana looked him up and down and Drake found himself wishing he was wearing his Darkwind suit. The suit is by no means infallible. He’s dragged himself home with the bruises to prove it, but at this moment, the mask and wide brimmed hat would feel like a form of armor, and there’s something disarming about Liliana’s line of sight.

“I see,” Liliana said. It was brief. Bare, but not unkind. Sympathetic but not assuming. “Her parents?”

That was a more complicated answer than Drake knew how to explain.

“She was raised by her grandpa,” he said after a pause. “She lost him a few months ago,” grateful he had found a way not to lie. He worried that even if he tried, Liliana would see right through it.

“Dr. Waddlemeyer he... he was there for her. He means a great deal to her.”

Liliana nodded sympathetically. “That’s a rough start for someone so young. But I’m not surprised to hear Thaddeaus took her under his wing. That sounds like him. He was the same way with me.”

She smiled her gentle, wry, half-smile.

“I came to this country as a student, alone. My family, my mother and grandmother, my entire world left behind in Colombeaka. I think Thaddeaus saw the same loneliness in me that he recognized in his wife. The other Dr. Waddlemeyer, rest her soul, had been an immigrant too. She arrived as a teenager from Cuckooba. Thaddeaus was kind. He helped me with all the science classes I didn’t understand, which - as an art student- was all of them. But he did more than that, he helped me navigate graduation credits, attended my art shows, introduced me to his son, and after that, well, the rest was history.”

She smiled, but it was a sad smile.

“He...he sounds like a wonderful man.” Drake paused. His eyes drifted in the direction of where he had left Gosalyn, behind closed doors.

“Your family in Colombeaka, are you still in contact with them?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “They died before I could send for them.”

Eyes still closed, she took a deep steadying breath. Then a second.

The silence that passed between them lasted only a moment but in the stillness of the air, he could sense the lightest tremble in her inhale, the barest ghost of a shudder in her exhale.

When she opened her eyes again, you never would have guessed it had been there at all. But Drake had seen it. He had seen the way she pulled back her shoulders and straightened her spine, as if readjusting an invisible load.

She was a woman carrying an unfathomable burden of grief. And yet, she refused to waiver to the weight of it.

“I-” a condolence began to form on his beak.

“No, no, none of that,” she cut him off raising a hand. “No more of that. Yes, I have lost, I have grieved. I have received enough sympathies and condolences for a lifetime. And enough of those pesky senior care center marketers offering to put my father-in-law in a home to ‘alleviate one more concern’,” she shook her head angrily at the thought.

“Having him here is a blessing.” She said firmly. “He is not a burden, he is my family. I...thank you for your concern, but I am okay. I will be okay. I thought I was alone. Again. But then...a miracle. He’s all the family I have left in the world. Caring for him is my honor and my privilege. ”

Tell her. The thought blurted itself across his mind.

But tell her what? That in another life she had a daughter, only for that to be taken from her too? Gosalyn hadn’t given him details, just that there had been an accident that took both her parents, when she was still too young to remember. What kind of comfort would that bring Liliana, to know that in a parallel universe she had the family she wanted, only for her and her husband to die, leaving their child orphaned?

And even if Liliana did believe him, what then? He and Gosalyn couldn’t stay in this dimension for more than a few hours. Would it really be a kindness to tell Liliana she still had family, only to tear it away from her? Hadn’t the woman already suffered enough loss? But then again, who was Drake to keep it from her? Who was he to make that decision?

The realization was like flipping a switch in his mind.

Of course.

It wasn’t his decision to make. It was Gosalyn’s.

So instead he nodded solemnly and said, “I can’t imagine the strength it takes.”

She smiled. A soft, wistful thing, “I am my mother’s daughter. We are made of the same clay.”

She said it quietly, almost a whisper, with a far away look in her eyes.

“Pardon?”

She looked back to him, as if she had forgotten he was there for a moment. She smiled, her wry, half-smile. Holding her head high she asked, “What more can I do but go forward?”

They continued to cook together, Drake following her instruction, as they diced vegetables.

They made light conversation, it took only a few minutes for her to move conversation towards Gosalyn.

“Tell me more about your- about Gosalyn. How long have you been her guardian?”

“6 months. Since she lost her grandpa.”

Liliana nodded sympathetically as she sliced the vegetables on the cutting board in front of her.

“That’s still early in her grief. But, I am glad she has someone who cares for her. You’re very protective of her. The way you watch her...you let her move through the world on her own accord, but you have a tendency to follow close behind, as if preparing to jump to her side at any given moment.”

Drake looked towards Liliana, freezing his chopping mid air. He didn’t know what expression he wore but Liliana must have read something because a moment later she was saying

“Ah, I apologize if I am too forward. It was just an observation. I have been told all my life that I speak my mind freely.”

“Gosalyn’s like that too,” Drake murmured, hoping awe wasn’t seeping into his voice.

Liliana smiled brightly, “Tell me more.”

“She’s...she’s the bravest kid I know. Smart, strong-willed, driven, headstrong. Geez, is that kid headstrong. There’s no stopping her once she’s made up her mind...and brilliant. Absolutely brilliant.

“All strong qualities of a young girl. Seeds that should be watered, wouldn’t you agree?” She looked at him with a half smile and raised eyebrow that struck him as familiar.

All of sudden, Drake felt as though he had just shown up in his boxer shorts to a test he hadn’t studied for.”

“Y-yes. Absolutely.”

Liliana smiled fully. “Hand me that jar over there, I’ll show you the secret to perfectly seasoning the chicken.”

#ducktales #darkwing duck #dt17 #hare brain writes #cw referenced transphobia #part 2 in link #this post is too long for tumblr

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